Coffee To Go
by unicyclehippo
Summary: *AU* Emma is new in town with her young son Henry. She runs into a certain dark-haired woman at the diner and decides, quite abruptly, that there is no one else for her in the whole wide world. I mean, no one ever said love made sense. Especially not when you can barely speak around the Mayor, let alone profess your love.
1. Chapter 1

**Coffee To Go: Chapter One**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy.**

He had no qualms concerning the use of his most pitiable voice. In fact, he utilised it to the best of his abilities, using it to tug on my heartstrings and make me rethink my immediate 'no'. And he really was forcing me to rethink the no.

"Please?" he whined. I could almost see him, my imagination racing to place him in some dusty office, his hair curling riotously, and his smile warming the room. I sighed. He took advantage of my wavering resolve. "_Please_, Emma. I would owe you big time."

"Hell yeah you would!" I snapped. I immediately sighed again, regretting the tone.

"Bad day?" That's something I loved about Graham. He was sweet. He backed down from the stand he'd taken as soon as I hinted towards the overwhelming exhaustion I was feeling. Not that I would ever let him know that I was exhausted.

"The worst," I confided cheerfully. I switched the phone to my right ear and balanced it on my shoulder as I finished washing up the dishes left after dinner. "My boss is a real creep."

A pause. "More reason for you to think about my offer."

I groaned and bunched my curls in a hand, scratching my scalp. I'd forgotten, for the moment, that I'd been in the sink and flinched when soapy water dripped onto my neck.

"I _have_ thought about it, Graham. You know I have. And I would accept it in a second if it wasn't for- oh for christs sake-" I flipped my curls and, annoyed, grabbed my hair tie. "Hold on." I tied the curls back, swearing softly when the band snapped onto my hand. "Okay I'm back."

"You alright?"

"This stupid, ugh," I brushed a strand from my eyes and scrubbed fiercely at the dinner plates, "My hair," I said as explanation.

Graham huffed a laugh. "You haven't cut it?"

"I haven't had time. Too busy."

"Right. Sure." He sounded amused and I growled. Dickhead. "So when you said you would accept…" he trailed off. I sighed for what felt like the ninetieth time tonight. "Why won't you accept?"

"You know why, Graham"

"Henry," he said, sounding only a little resigned. And frustrated.

"Don't start with me," I snapped. "He isn't your son. You don't _have _a kid, Graham, so you don't get to talk to me like that." When he spluttered and tried to apologise, I waved it away even though he couldn't see me. I tried valiantly to explain but at the end of a day like this it was hard to think, let alone put thoughts verbally into words. "We just got here. It hasn't even been a month, Graham, and before that we had an apartment for six months. That's no way for a kid to live. I don't want to yank him around and I really don't want to have my childhood."

"He won't, Em," Graham reassured me in his soothing rumble. Dishes done, I hopped up onto the counter and let my feet swing. My shoulders slumped a little and I leant back to rest my head on the wall behind me. "Know why?" I shrugged and made a noncommittal noise, knowing he'd tell me anyway. "Cause he has the best mom in the world." I smiled faintly, pleased with the comment but knowing that it wasn't true. I couldn't provide Henry with everything he wanted. Hell, I couldn't provide him with _anything_ that he wanted. We were living off microwave food and, in my case, bad coffee.

At a faint crashing noise, I moved into the living room. I paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame, to watch my son drive his little truck up over the couch and propel it through the air – whooshing sounds eagerly accompanying the vaguely non-realistic movements – to land on furniture and walls as he so desired.

"How is the lad?" Graham asked. I blinked at his voice and grinned. I'd forgotten I was even on the phone with my friend, too caught up in watching Henry.

"Better. I mean he's not sick anymore." Last time Graham had called, I remembered, Henry had been cranky and sad – a mean bout of the sniffles had him tucked up in bed for far longer than any child (particularly one as rambunctious as Henry) should be. He'd spoken to Graham for a grand total of one hour and thirty-nine minutes that day, chatting about everything from –ew- the colour of his snot to how many stars he could see out the window.

"And school?"

"He just started a couple of days ago. I can't pull him out now and make him the focus of everyone's attention when he's just dropped into a new school with new kids," I said, softly so not to draw Henry's attention, but sternly so Graham knew I meant business. I would _not_ mess my kid up. "I can't do that to him, Graham. It sucks being-"

"The new kid. I know." And despite the fact that he didn't have a son and he didn't know me half as well as he professed that he did – admittedly, that much was my fault for not keeping in touch – he did know that being new was sometimes not a welcome experience. "But look, Emma, I was there for you once and Henry, I promise you, will be fine. I _promise_," he said again. I swear for a moment his accent thickened. That's how I knew he was being sincere. "And I mean, school hasn't even started yet here so that's one less thing that you'd have to worry about. If you get here soon, he can make friends before he starts. And the teachers are really nice."

"You really want us to come down," I stated, rolling the idea around in my head. I bit the inside of my mouth lightly as I thought about it.

"Yes. Please," Graham begged again. "I want to see you and I want to see my little Henry and I know that you'll love it here. I really do."

"And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that your dragon lady mayor is breathing down your neck for you to get a new deputy?"

"Not at all."

"Really? Not even because you hate that she wants Sidney to be deputy and you hate him?"

There was a brief pause. "_God_ I hate him," he said in a rushed breath. "But that has nothing to do with it at all." I hummed down the line, not convinced, and he sighed. I could picture his little scowl, all downturned and churlish, when he realised I wasn't going to let him lie to me. "Okay, maybe a little. But seriously – you remember him, don't you? He's a creep!"

I did remember him. Sidney had been a few years ahead of me and Graham and he'd been the editor of the school newspaper and also written the vast majority of the articles. And he'd been such a 'creep' that I'd taken it upon myself to kick him in the groin on one – okay a few – particular occasion.

"How am I supposed to turn you down, Graham?" I asked, playfully mournful. "You make it so difficult."

He sucked in a breath, stunned into ecstasy. "You'll come down?" he asked in an excited whisper that was an octave above its normal pitch.

I laughed softly, glancing into the room where Henry continued to play. God the kid had a great attention span. "I have to talk to the kid about it but I think so. You still have room for us?"

"Yep. More than enough."

"Then yeah. I'll text you Henry's answer later."

"Great! Thank you so much, Emma. You won't regret this!" And he was gone. I clicked the End button on my phone and slid it back into its receiver. I paused, took a deep breath, and nodded. Here came the hard part. Henry.

I waited for a minute or two, trying to muster the courage to tell Henry that, once again, we would be moving. My thoughts were interrupted when a little hand tugged at my shirt.

I peeked down through slitted eyelids at the adorable face looking up at me. "Mamma, my truck broked." Henry's little face creased into a frown as he held up the small plastic truck, the wheels having come loose.

"It _broked_?" I asked, crouching down immediately to hoist him onto my waist. "Well, let me find some glue and we can fix this up quick smart!" Henry giggled at the expression and nodded, handing me the truck.

"Quick smart!" he repeated, clapping his hands. I grabbed the emergency kit from the kitchen cupboard and then jogged us into the living room – which doubled as a dining room…and tripled as the television room – and dropped him onto the couch, making him squeal. The happy sound sent a bolt right to my heart and I grinned at him, winking. He winked clumsily back and I didn't bother to fight the smile that spread across my face.

"Okay little man." I squinted at the truck. Crap, I need my glasses for this. "You know where Mamma's glasses are?" He nodded. "Grab them for me, will you?" He swung his legs down to the ground and sped off to collect my glasses. By the time he returned, I had figured out where the wheels were supposed to go and I took them from him with a murmured 'thank you'.

"You're welcome," he said back politely and damn if it didn't make my heart sing. He was, without the shadow of a doubt, the best goddamn kid around. Polite, smart, funny – I just wish that I didn't make it so hard on him sometimes. I mean, a woman like me trying to raise a kid like him? He'd have his work cut out for him that was for sure. One thing I could give him was love and I made damn sure that he had it in spares.

I poked my tongue out as I worked. The glue dripped a little but I wiped it off the truck and, as I held the wheels in place, I looked up at my son. "Hey kid," I started. He looked up at me and blinked. "How would you feel about going to see Uncle Graham?"

A smile almost split his face. "When?" he demanded.

"Tomorrow. He asked us to come and live with him for a while."

Henry smiled even wider before he frowned. "So…we won't be living here?" I shook my head no. "And school?"

"You'll be going to school there," I said softly. "And if you don't want to go that's _fine_. We can go and see Graham and come right back here."

Henry pursed his lips thoughtfully and crossed his arms. "I like Uncle Gray." I nodded but didn't interrupt him. His name for Graham was cute. I liked hearing him say it. Also, he was a pretty precocious kid and liked to babble. "He is nice and one time he let me hold his gun." I felt my face whiten with that knowledge but when I opened my mouth to ask when-how-why-when-_what_? and began to consider calling up Graham immediately to yell at him a little (a lot) when Henry glared at me. I settled into the couch and made a mental note to yell later. "Also he likes doggies and I like doggies."

All three apparently extremely relevant to the discussion. Uncle Graham is nice; he let Henry hold a gun (I'll seriously maim Graham for that); he likes doggies. Good to know.

"Are we coming back?" he asked.

"If we go and live with him?" I clarified. He nodded. "No. If we go to live with him then we won't come back here." He nodded again. "What about school, Henry? Did you make any friends?"

"No," he said softly. "And my teacher smells like sand." I wrinkled my nose. "And the coloured blocks are sticky. I don't like it there." I smiled. A point in the favour of moving then, I suppose.

"So what do you want, Henry?"

"I want to see Uncle Gray." A flash of fear crossed his face abruptly and I reacted instantly, pulling him into my arms and onto my lap.

"What is it, kid? What's wrong?"

"Can I take my things?" he asked, fearful. "What about Mr Dragon?" I relaxed, leaning my forehead against my sons' head.

"Yes," I murmured. "You can take your things. And Mr Dragon will _definitely_ be coming with us. He can even sit in the front seat with you." Henry pulled away and grabbed my cheeks with two little hands. He looked up at me very seriously.

"Can we go see Uncle Gray now please?"

"Well, Henry, we have to pack and it's night time so we won't leave until tomorrow or even the next day."

"No." Henry stood, just so he could stomp his foot. "Now. I want to see Uncle Gray _now_." When he saw that his miniature tantrum had affected me very little – please, I deal with criminals on a daily basis, so a child's tantrum, even _my_ child's tantrum, has nothing on that – he softened and widened his eyes plaintively. "Mamma," he said quietly. I groaned. Kid was good. "Pwease can we see Uncle Gray now?" And he even used the baby voice. God damn.

"Fine. I'll pack tonight. But!" I said, waggling a finger at him. "You are going to have a bath and you're going to like it. Got that?" He grinned from ear to ear and nodded eagerly. "Alright then. We have a deal."

He didn't even wait for his truck but raced straight for the bathroom, stripping his clothes as he went. Once I was sure that the wheels of the toy wouldn't come off, I laid the truck on the table and followed him. I left the door to the bathroom opened a crack and yelled in as I passed.

"Behind your ears too, mister!"

"Yes, mamma!"

Packing was easy. I always had boxes in my cupboard and, well, I actually hadn't taken most of my stuff out of the boxes. We'd only been in Boston for a month. Henry was a little more difficult to pack for but I managed in just under an hour, even with the kid poking around and dancing like a lunatic with the tiny portable radio I had bought for the shower. We didn't really have much in the way of possession and I was actually kind of sad about it. I needed to give Henry more, I thought.

Once the boxes were safely stowed in the car, I sent a quick text to the landlord, letting him know that we were moving out and not to expect the next months rent, and another to Graham telling him we were on our way. I shuffled into our bedroom and poked Henry.

"Henry," I whispered. He groaned from his position, spread-eagled on our bed. "Henry," I tried again. But the kid was dead to the world and so, with a shrug, I pulled him into my arms and cradled him all the way down the stairs and into my Bug. I strapped him in with no problems and pulled out the directions Graham had sent me. Storybrooke, Maine, here we come.

**So, an AU story (no magic, no Evil Queen – sorry – but obviously still a Regina) about Emma and Regina and a little Henry. He's five in the story, by the way. It's been on my mind for quite a while now so I thought I'd have a crack at it. And I have a faint idea where I want to go with this but, as in all of my stories, I am open to ideas and constructive criticism. Let me know what you think. Reviews make me happy. Super happy. Happy reading, readers :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Two**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy. (Oh yeah and follow me on the tumblr – elizadownunder.)**

You know those people who sleep like they're Disney princesses? Perfectly still and just, you know, perfectly? And they wake up with a single blink of the eyes and yawn delicately and birds flock to them and they never have morning breath or need to fix their hair?

Yeah… Henry isn't like that. He falls asleep in what must be the most uncomfortable looking positions ever. And his hair automatically looks like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards the _second_ he wakes up. He's cute though. He has this little routine and I watch from the corner of my eye as he does a strange rehashing of it, not used to sleeping in the car.

Firstly, he twitches. Like his sleep self is waking up and his body isn't quite prepared for it. Then he whines for a minute, which ends with a little huff. He stretches out his arms and his legs and he curls up into a tiny ball. Then he plants both of his hands on his face and hides from the world, trying to go back to sleep.

"Good sleep, kiddo?" He groans an answer that is undecipherable and turns away from me. "Henry," I say at the same volume. "We're almost there."

I feel a little bad about waking the kid up. I mean, he's been sleeping in the car all night and we were up kind of late packing. Kid is entitled to sleep. But I also know that if we drive into town and he isn't awake to see every minute of it, he will make me drive out again and back in so he can see everything. And we just passed a sign that said 'Welcome to Storybrooke'.

"Henry," I say again, a little louder. "Come on kid, we're almost there. Wakey wakey." He grumbles and then yawns mightily.

"We there?" he mumbles, his words slurring together. I nod as he bends down to pick up Mr Dragon and clutches him tightly to his chest. The tail flops kind of pathetically and I wonder if it's possible to restuff the toy or something because I'm pretty sure Henry has hugged it all out of the dragon.

"Yeah kid. Almost."

And just like that, all sleepiness is gone. He's like a new kid. He's bouncing in his seat and he has his face pressed so close against the window that I swear he is going to melt into it.

"Mamma!" he cried out. "Where's Uncle Gray? I can't see him." I smirk. We _are_ still outside town limits and I tell him that. "Isn't he waiting for us, though?"

"Yeah kid, he is. At his house."

"Oh." He's silent for a second. "Where's that?"

"Well, we aren't there yet."

"Oh." He is silent until we pass the first house on the outskirts of the town. "Is that it?" I sigh.

"No, Henry, that's not Graham's house."

"Is that it?" The second house.

"No."

"Is that it? What about that one? Is that his?" Every house we pass is scrutinised by my son, stared at intently so he can make sure that, _no_, the person outside is not his Uncle Gray. "Go slower!" he commands, and I obediently slow the car down. I rest my head on my hand, which is propped up on my door, and slowly drive Henry down each of the streets, dutifully answering 'no' to each time he asks whether this is Graham's house.

"There it is!" he screams suddenly. "Uncle Gray!" I fling my hand out to press against Henry's chest, knowing before he moves that he is going to try and throw himself out of our moving car to greet his uncle. And sure enough, his seatbelt is off in a split second and his hand is on the door handle. Thank God for child lock. He pouts at me.

"Don't look at me like that, mister. Now sit still until I park the car."

Sitting still is a relative term. He is practically bubbling within his skin until I park the car. "Finally!" he yells, and I race to unlock the door before he breaks it in his excitement. "Uncle Gray!" he shrieks, sprinting on his little legs to the rather neatly dressed man who ducks to pick up Henry and spin him around.

"Hello little man!" Graham greets him, shaking my sons' hand gravely. "You wouldn't happen to have seen my nephew, would you? He's about yea high," he waved to a point just around his hip. Henry giggled. "Answers to Henry."

"It's _me_," Henry told him, grabbing his cheeks. "I'm Henry!"

Graham raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and turned to me, where I was leaning against my trusty, rusty Bug. "Emma, this wouldn't happen to belong to you, would it?"

I stepped forward. "Hmm, I'm not sure." I examined Henry for a moment, taking in his slowly frowning face as he looks between us.

"Mamma," he says. "Don't be silly."

I laugh at his serious expression and push myself away from the car to snatch him up from Graham's arms quickly. "Me? Silly?" Henry nodded. "Never. That must have been _you_ being silly." Henry sighed long-sufferingly and relaxed into my arms.

"No mamma, it was you." He was distracted again in a moment. He reaches out to grab at Graham, tugging him toward us. "Look! I found Graham!"

"Yeah kid, you did." I manoeuvred Henry easily to my hip and held out my hand to Graham. "Good to see you again, Gray." The sheriff frowned at the proffered hand and moved it aside so he could grab both me and Henry in a mammoth hug. He actually lifted me up and I squealed like a little girl, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Down!" I commanded. "Put me down!" Graham smirked when I punched him on the shoulder, and again when Henry told me 'no hitting mamma!', and ruffled my son's hair.

"That's right," he told Henry. "No _hitting_, Emma." He rubbed his now sore arm and then, recovering, slung his arm around us. "Welcome home. Want to see your new digs?"

"Digs?" I said flatly. "Okay no. If you say digs I'm seriously going to have to find a new place to stay."

"Crib?"

"Not any better."

"Castle?" Henry yells his vehement agreement to that suggestion, nearly blowing out my eardrum, and Graham nods decisively. "Castle then. Welcome home." He led the way up stairs to a surprisingly large apartment – a large kitchen in the middle, bedrooms on either side, a bathroom, and a staircase that led to yet another bedroom and a small bathroom. He poked Henry's shoulder. "What do you think little man?" He waved a hand at the space.

"There are no…" Henry trailed off and turned to me. "The thingies on castle with flags?" He'd forgotten the word.

I scrunched up my face thoughtfully. "Turrets? Towers?"

"Both," Henry said. "No turwets or turrers." He wrinkled his nose and held his breath, counting to five. "I like the colour." The walls were blue. It was Henry's favourite colour. "I like it."

Graham let out a comically large breath. "Really?" Henry nodded. "Great. Do you want to see your room?" Henry screamed a 'yes' and struggled in my arms to get to Graham. I passed him over and motioned to my friend that I would be getting the boxes from the car. He nodded and, potentially more excited than my son was, took him up the stairs to see his room.

By the time I'd brought all the boxes up – Graham had come to help me before I'd been halfway finished – Henry was out. Done. Asleep like he hadn't slept in his entire life. And he was snoring lightly, a cute little rattle every three breaths or so.

Graham was making us tea. "Thanks for coming down on such late notice, Emma." He didn't look at me while he poured the drinks.

"Don't worry about it, Gray."

"No really, Em. I really appreciate it. No one here has any skill at all for police work and I know it's a small town but I don't want some idiot sitting in the deputy seat just because the mayor wants to know everything that's going on. I just," he shrugged and grinned up at me. The smile was lacking though. I knew it and he knew it. "I wanted someone on my team for once."

"I get it." And that's all I needed to say because, really, I did. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. But I was thinking that after lunch you could come down and get fitted for a uniform, have a little tour, try out our crappy coffee machine. What do you think?"

I nodded. "Sounds good. And Henry?"

"I called Mary Margaret. She teaches primary at the school. She's having a introductory class for all the new kids and she said she'd love a new member. She'll look after him really well."

I nodded again. This was all going incredibly fast but it was all sounding _really_ good. I had no issues with any of this, and that was kind of rare for me. "And when's that for?"

"Ten."

I glanced at my watch. "Okay. I'll let him sleep for an hour and then foist him on a complete stranger. Sounds like fun."

"Em…" he looked genuinely worried, thinking he had overstepped or something. I reminded myself that it had been a long time – too long, my traitorous brain told me – since we'd seen each other. Since we'd _really_ spoken.

"Relax, Gray. I was just kidding." And he did relax a little. His shoulders came down and I realised just how tense he really was. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stress you out."

He barked a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "Trust me, Em. You are the one thing right now that isn't stressing me out. You're a good thing." I gave him a half-smile. "Been a while since you've heard that?" I shrug. "Well it's true." He let his mug sit on the counter with a clink. "I have to go to work."

I nod and stand, taking his mug to the sink. My own tea is untouched. I'm a coffee drinker. When I turn around he is standing there, just far enough away that it doesn't send my heart into immediate palpitations.

"Emma," he said entirely too sincerely. "Thank you." And then, watching me to make sure that I'm all right with it, he wraps me in a fierce hug and it feels strangely like coming home. I unwind enough to return the hug, digging my nose into the soft leather of his jacket. It's a brief hug but any longer and both of us would be bawling so we release each other with much clearing of throats and patting of backs to bolster egos and confidence.

"Okay then," I say lightly. "I'll see you at the station at twelve."

* * *

I really need a coffee. I'm crashing hard – Henry is safely taken within the folds of the miniature school and in the practised hands of Mary Margaret, who seems to be nice, and I'm just wandering around to burn time before I have to meet Graham.

"I need coffee," I murmur to myself. And it's true. I need coffee like I need to breath. So the second my eyes alight upon a sign that has a picture of a coffee mug on it and chalk words that tell me 'Granny's Diner' I restrain myself from sprinting towards it. But I do lengthen my stride and before I know it I'm there.

I open the door and within my taking three steps towards the counter all noise has come to an abrupt halt. Someone drops a spoon. Someone clears their throat, no doubt having choked on a breakfast sausage or a piece of toast, surprised. Eyes linger on me and never leave. They weren't even trying to be subtle.

"Hey there, stranger," came a perky voice and high-waisted shorts. "What can I get for you?"

"Coffee please." My eyes swept the room. No one bothered to look away, completely comfortable and content to just stare at me. "To go," I added quick and quiet. All the stares were getting to me. I kind of hated attention.

"Sure thing. One coffee coming straight up." And sure enough, not even a minute later a steaming takeaway cup was sitting in front of me on the counter. I dug in my pocket for my wallet but the waitress waved it away. "On the house," she said. "The first cup always is."

I looked up long enough to catch a glimpse of a vibrant, sweet smile and friendly eyes before I ducked my head in a nod of thanks. "Oh, my name is Ruby, by the way," she tells me. She lingers near me for a moment, sweeping a cloth in broad strokes across the bench in a pretence of cleaning. "And don't let the folks get to you," she said kindly. "They're just stuffy, nosey old buggers. Are you planning on staying around?"

"Ah, I'm Emma," I offered. She smiled, nodding. "And yes. I'm staying. For a little while." I fidgeted with my cup, longing for this polite chitchat to be over so I could escape outside, to breath in air and not have people just watching me, making icy fingers of paranoia tickle up my spine. That's not to say that I didn't like Ruby – I did. She didn't make me feel awkward as most people did. But that didn't mean I wanted to hang around any longer than necessary.

"Alright then Emma. I hope to see you around." She smiled and winked.

I took my coffee with another small 'thank you' and pushed away from the bar. I paused, just for a moment, to check my buzzing phone, and that is when it happened.

My life changed forever in this moment – a tiny moment, really, which normally would never be able to be distinguishable from any other moment in time – that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

I tucked my phone back into my jeans pocket and took a step out into the diner space when I collided with someone. Someone holding a cup of coffee.

The dark liquid burnt down my chest in a painful cascade. I leapt back, hips jarring against the counter, and pulled my shirt away from me. I dropped my coffee as I did and, thankfully, it fell harmlessly. It spilled on the floor but I paid it no mind. Not when I had much more to worry about, tugging still at the fabric of my tank top. The pain made me hiss and grit my teeth and I had to clutch my eyes shut for a moment.

I looked up to yell at whoever had split their coffee on me and lost my words. All of them. My words had disappeared, leaving me breathless. They were just gone like they'd never even existed, leaving neither imprint nor memory behind to help me fuddle my way through this rather strange and fascinating moment. My tongue felt thick and heavy in my mouth and I had a vast empty void inside of myself that rushed inwards, compressing upon itself, imploding, and that forced air out of my lungs in a rather unattractive manner.

"Oh," I said. Eloquent.

"Watch where you are going!" She snapped at me. Her coffee cup was still in her hand, the culprit.

My words came back all in a rush and a jumble, swirling in my chest. I kept them locked down.

Beautiful.

Stunning.

Lovely.

She was coffee. Coffee eyes and espresso hair and bittersweet lips. Eyes, liquid brown and scalding, scorching, wherever they landed on me. Hair that flowed and fell in stunning strong lines. Lips: bitter from the snarl and the grinding words; sweet from the delicate shape of her lips, the perfect colour, the hidden white teeth that flashed with every word. I wondered what her lips would taste like.

"Coffee," was all I managed to say. Stutter, more accurately. What else could I have said though? She was everywhere. And before this moment, I had assumed I needed coffee to live to sustain myself to _be_ but I was wrong. She, this woman, was so much better and coffee was just a poor substitute that had managed to tide me over for this goddess. Where before caffeine had supplied my limbs and my brain with energy, her mere presence ignited every synapse in my body. I felt invigorated. I _crackled_. I felt alive. I felt more. I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Where caffeine before had been my aroma of choice, now all I could smell was her – dark and powerful and mesmerising.

"Are you going to gape at me all day or are you going to apologise?"

"What?" Again, I managed only a single word.

"Oh charming, a blabbering imbecile. Miss Lucas," she said over my head, "I expect more from your establishment." Her eyes returned to me. "What is your name?" My brain, despite neurons snapping and exploding as if all the light and knowledge and beauty in the universe had coalesced within my head at that moment, was barely functioning and I couldn't care less. She wanted my name.

"Emma," I murmured. "Emma Swan."

"Very well then, Miss Swan," she said my name like it was beneath her (I'd like to be beneath her – _bad_ brain) but still. She said my name. And it was perfection. "Get out of my way."

And I moved. I moved because I don't know if I'll ever not be able to do what she tells me to do. Perhaps it was surprise, surprise that I'd run into such a paragon of loveliness here of all places. Perhaps, like I suspected, I moved because my heart demanded that I do anything this woman asks of me. Whatever the reason, I stepped out of her way and watched her leave.

"Oh my god. Emma, are you alright?"

Noise started again and it was like an attack. Humming and buzzing of curious voices filled the space that she had occupied and it seemed, in comparison, crass. Less.

Ruby had raced over to my side and she clucked, shaking her head as she plucked at my stained shirt. I waved her away.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I reassured her. I took a deep breath. "Who was that?" I gushed, unable to resist.

"That was Regina Mills," Ruby muttered. I chose not to comment on the rude tone she used in reference to my future wife. "What a bitch, right?"

"She's perfect," I corrected her dreamily. My eyes were still lingering on the door that had long since swung shut. I looked back to see Ruby's eyebrow quirked and I grinned a grin that I knew would be goofy and too wide by far. I couldn't help it. "She's _perfect_," I repeated.

"Oh man," Ruby whistled, leaning back from me as if I were contagious. "You're in trouble now, girl." Her sympathetic smile told me she knew all too well what had just happened to me. I'd been blindsided and there was nothing to be done about it. "You need a new shirt?"

"No, I'll pick one up at my friends." She nodded.

"Okay then. Look, you just made yourself the most interesting thing to have ever happened in Storybrooke, like, _ever_ so I expect to hear from you again. Got that?" I nodded, not really caring what I was agreeing to at the moment. "Alright then." She paused. "Emma?" I hummed a yes. "Your phone is ringing."

"Oh. Oh!" I pulled it out and answered. "Graham! Late," I said, chiding myself, when he mentioned my rather notable absence. "Yes, I'm late. I know. I'm sorry. But – okay, no, I'll tell you when I get there." I hung up and grinned again at Ruby. "See you later." And then I ran out of the diner and sprinted to Graham's office, energy burning inside of me that I just had to use otherwise I would be twitching all day.

He greeted me with a bemused smile and a shake of the head. "Coffee work differently in the big cities, Em?" he teased. I frowned, confused, until he pointed at my rather impressively stained shirt.

"Oh. No. This is, that is, she spilt coffee on me."

"Who? Someone did this to you?" He sat up quickly in his chair, a grave look on his face. The idea of someone doing this on purpose clearly wasn't something he liked the thought of.

"Yeah. I ran into the most amazing woman to ever have graced the earth." I sighed. "And she spilt her coffee on me." Graham gaped at me and so I continued. "She's beautiful and lovely and perfect and her voice is heaven and she's just-"

"Oh boy," Graham said, interrupting me. He lowered his head into his hands and shook his head vigorously. "You've got it bad and it's only your first day here. What the hell did you do, Emma? How did you manage to fall in love within an hour?" He frowned. "Actually, how _did_ you manage that? You don't like people."

"I like people," I defended, slowly coming down from the high she had induced. "It just takes a while. Usually."

"Yeah, like years. You don't even like me sometimes. _Me._" I scoffed at his self-important tone and cuffed him over the ear (tried, more accurately, because he dodged it and smiled innocently up at me) at the thought because if there were anyone in the world that I liked, well, it would be Graham. I shrugged out of my red jacket and rifled in the cupboard that Graham pointed out for me for a spare shirt of his. I tugged my shirt off quickly and slipped into his button-down, wincing at the pull of now-tender skin.

"Besides, she isn't 'people'," I added. "She's…" I stopped, shaking my head. "More." He waved at me to continue and I was about to speak, starting to do up the buttons of the shirt, when the clack of heels alerted us to another presence.

"Sheriff, there is a problem I need you to deal with," came the honey-smooth voice of Regina.

I froze.

**There you go. Chapter Two. Read and review please; I love reviews especially. Follow me here if you want and on tumblr: elizadownunder. Love you all. Happy reading, readers :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Three**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Just a brief comment to mudpiegirl – I'm afraid that some things aren't going to be original. I haven't nearly enough talent to make something as amazing as that. Still, Henry's conception is something that I am still debating in my head and I hope that whatever I come up with you'll like. Oh and thank you to all of my lovely reviewers – they really make my day so, once again, thank you. This next chapter I dedicate to you wonderful people.**

**Please enjoy.**

I heard her voice. I froze. Within moments I would come face to face with my perfect lady goddess and I just…well, I ducked under the desk and punched Graham in the thigh when he looked down at me. I made the shushing movement, a finger to my lips, and shook my head frantically.

"Sheriff?" Graham's head shot up and he stood carefully, pushing his chair back so to avoid hitting me.

"Madame Mayor," he greeted her. I clapped both hands over my mouth to stop the squeak of shock I felt rising. My eyes widened. Madame Mayor? _She_ was the dragon lady? Wearer of power suits and the lady who glared icy stares and spewed acerbic insults like they were her own secret language? I conjured an image of her as I had met her earlier – all stern looks and dismissive voice – and nodded to myself. I felt myself sit back against the desk, muscles limp with shock, and nodded again. She's the mayor. She's totally the mayor. "What can I help you with?"

"Please, sit," she told Graham. My friend lowered himself into his chair and, eyes flicking down to meet mine, he rolled into his desk until his knees were pressed uncomfortably into my right shoulder. "There is a stranger in Storybrooke," she announced, sharp and stern.

"There sometimes is, Madame Mayor," Graham answered dryly.

"She is dangerous." Regina's voice sharpened even more and I imagined her eyes narrowing. Poor Graham. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "And if not dangerous, she is incompetent and an imbecile. I would like you to talk with her, find out how long she will be here. Try and encourage her to leave."

"I'll do my best, ma'am. Can you tell me anything about her?" Like a dutiful sheriff, Graham grabbed pen and paper. I saw him look expectantly up at Regina and I held my breath. I knew what was coming.

"Her name is Emma Swan." Graham coughed compulsively, flinging his pen away from himself in his surprise, and I punched him hard in the knee. I winced when the only effect was pain to my own knuckles. Regina continued, slowly, after receiving an apologetic murmur from Graham telling her he was fine. "I expect a report from you by tomorrow morning at the latest." And with that, she turned on her heel and strode out. Her shoes clacked ominously on the linoleum and, when the door closed behind her, Graham rolled away from the desk.

"Want to tell me what that was all about then, Em?" Graham crossed his left leg over his right and quirked an eyebrow. "Because it's not every day that a pretty girl ducks under my desk to hide from the mayor."

"Oh shut it." I crawled awkwardly out from under the desk, shoving Graham out of the way. "Don't be a jerk." I brushed the dust off my pants and jumped up onto his desk. I tried valiantly not to think of the woman who had just left but I felt a red blush moving steadily up my neck – I had failed.

"Don't be a _jerk_? Emma – that is Regina Mills. The Mayor." He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook once. "Why does she want you gone?" I blinked and said nothing. "Okay, why are you 'dangerous', 'incompetent' and an 'imbecile'?" I shrugged in answer – looking, even to my own eyes, like an idiot – and he rolled his eyes. "Em – she just told me to run you out of town. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just – she – that is…" I huffed a breath and crossed my arms. I didn't even _look_ at the woman and still she made my words go on the fritz. "I ran into her. I wasn't looking where I was going and then I was kind of babbling and, well, that's why she thinks I'm an idiot."

"Oh." Graham shrugged. "Okay. That makes sense. Oh – you didn't get your coffee on her power suit, did you? From your shirt? Because that would explain the smoke coming out of her nose."

"Nah she spilt it all on me, I think. I don't think any got on her."

"She spilt it on you?" Graham's voice was low and cautious as he connected the dots. I clamped my mouth shut tightly and shook my head, eyes wide with innocence. "Okay, well, don't do that because you're a horrible liar."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Just – Regina? _Regina_? Really?" He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Couldn't you have picked someone less…" he trailed off and I began to supply him with helpful suggestions. It seems like my words return when I'm trying to be helpful.

"Amazing? Perfect? Flawless?"

"Evil." Graham said the word flatly, having shaken his head at each of my suggestions. "Someone less evil."

"Hey! She's not evil." I shoved his shoulder and he shoved me back lightly. "Don't talk like that about her."

"I've been talking like that about her for three years, Emma, but it never bothered you before."

"Yeah because I didn't know that she was, you know, _her_. I thought she was some mean stuffy old mayor."

Graham held up his hands in surrender – lookit that, I didn't even need to use a gun – and he shrugged. "Fine. Fine. Just…you have to fix this. Go and talk to her, convince her that you aren't an idiot. And you'd better do a great job because there is no way in hell I am going to hire _Sidney Glass."_ He hissed the name and shuddered a little before throwing open a desk drawer. He pulled out a small badge in the shape of the star and polished it quickly on his cuff. He handed it to me almost reverently. "Take this. It's yours. Oh, and if Regina says that she'll fire you, remind her that appointing the deputy is my job not hers."

"Thanks," I murmured, clipping it to my belt.

"Not a problem, Deputy Swan." We shared a smile. It had a nice ring to it – and it brought back by far the fondest memories I had of growing up. Me and Graham running around town playing cops and robbers, and then cop and cop arresting the other kids we claimed were criminals for the inexcusable offences of littering and pushing on the playground. And when we were older, and occasionally drunk, the more serious conversations in which we never dreamed we would be separated, in which we tackled real criminals and won. My smile widened and I touched the star again, satisfied with its weight on my belt.

"Now," Graham clapped me on the shoulder, "go and explain to the Mayor who you are and what you're doing here. Fix this."

I rocked back on my heels. "Oh no. I can't do that."

Graham frowned. "What? Why can't you do it?"

"Because I can't. Can't _you_ do it?" I begged of my best friend. He smiled grimly at me and tucked himself in at his desk. He plopped a pile of paperwork almost as big as I was onto his desk and shook his head, pretending to be disappointed.

"Oh, so sorry, can't. Too much work to do."

"I hate you," I muttered. "Okay I don't. But I really can't do it." He levelled a stare at me that made all my qualms at being gooey and gushy and feminine around him shrivel up and hide and I flung myself to the guest chair and groaned. "She makes all my words go _poof_." I made a fancy gesture with my hands that, to me, meant vanishing or possibly exploding. It made sense to me but, judging from the look of utter incomprehension on his face, it didn't make as much sense to Graham. I continued to explain. "I get really nervous and my tongue feels to big for my mouth and my hands get clammy and my heart starts beating really fast and I think I might trip over my feet even when I'm not moving and-"

"Okay stop. Please." Graham ran a hand through his hair. "What if you wrote down what you wanted to say and then just read it to her without looking? Would that work?"

I thought about it for a whole minute before nodding slowly. "I guess. If I have to do it."

"You do."

"Then fine. Yeah, it'll work. How did you come up with that?"

"Well I'm more than just a pretty face," he smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I have a beautiful mind as well."

* * *

And so it was that I found myself outside the mayors office an hour and twenty minutes later, notes in one hand, coffee in the other. I looked to her assistant again (a nice, incredibly gay man by the name of Michael) and he covered a grin with a well-manicured hand. I suppose I must have looked a little (a lot) terrified. He waved me toward the door again and I knocked, pretending like I wasn't scared mute.

"Come in," her imperious voice rang out.

I took a deep breath and moved to push the door open – when I realised that my hands were full. I sent a pleading look to Michael who rushed over to open the door for me, patting me reassuringly on the back as he did. I didn't dare look at the woman sitting behind the desk. Instead, I turned to make sure the door closed properly and, when it shut with a faint click, I turned again. I walked in careful, measured steps until I was two paces away from her desk and then I breathed in deeply. I felt dizzy.

"Can I help you, Miss Swan?" Her voice was cool. Calm. Collected. I kept my eyes down and held out the coffee cup.

"I brought coffee for you." That was the easy part but still my tongue felt heavy. I closed my eyes tightly. "Your coffee, I mean, I guessed you hadn't had any because you left after you spilt it all on me and it was a full cup so I guessed you hadn't drunk any and I thought that I would bring you some and I asked the waitress what you order and she told me black and so I bought that and I hope you like it and should I put it on a coaster because your desk is really lovely and I don't want to leave a ring or anything or should I just throw it out I'm sorry." I drew in another breath and pressed my lips together. _Good going, Swan_, my thoughts viciously abused me. _Now she _totally_ doesn't think you're a babbling imbecile_. Ah, sarcasm. Even my brain seems to be adept at it.

"There is a coaster here, Miss Swan. You may place it there gently if you believe you can do so without spilling it." Her voice hadn't changed even a bit. I felt a little more hopeful – I mean, she's the mayor, right? She must be used to dealing with idiots. Which I definitely was at the moment.

"'Kay." I inched closer and slowly placed the tall Styrofoam cup on the marble coaster. I purposefully resisted the urge to look at the hand – perfect, olive-skin, manicured – that gestured towards it.

"Is there a reason you are in my office, Miss Swan?" There was just the tiniest tinge of hesitation – curiosity, maybe? – in her voice and it made me look up at her. Big mistake. Boom. Perfect. My mouth flapped open and I felt my eyes widening and I knew I had to do something good before I did something incredibly stupid. Like throw up.

So took a gigantic step back and took a deep breath. I cursed the blush I knew had already spread over my cheeks. Then, horrified at my reaction to her, I lowered my head as much as I could until my chin was pressed to my chest and pulled my notes up to my eyes. I blinked but I couldn't read my own scratched scrawl so I had to fish my glasses out from my pocket and slip them on.

"Miss Swan?" Now she was confused and annoyed, I think.

"I'm sorry, Madame Mayor." Honesty is the best policy, Graham had told me while I was agonising over what to say. He probably didn't mean for me to be honest to quite the extent I was going to be but hey, in for a penny, in for a million pounds. "I'm really sorry. I can't look at you and talk because every time I do I feel like you've sucker punched me and I can't think straight. That's why I have to stand back here and why I've got stuff written down. Also, the notes are here to make sure that I don't forget to tell you things because I don't have a great memory. I mean it's not that bad, but sometimes I do forget stuff and-"

"Miss Swan," she reprimanded me. "Please return to the point you were trying to make."

"Right. Yes. Sure. You asked Graham to find me and send me out of town and report back to you but he-"

"How did you know that?" I could hear her sitting straighter. I could feel her eyes on my back – sharp, terrifying eyes. Each of my muscles tensed. Whoops.

"I may have been hiding under the desk."

"Why?"

"Because I heard you coming and I'd only just recovered from walking into you at Granny's and I panicked and then I hid. I'm sorry."

There was some noise in front me – some shuffle and movement – and I so longed to just raise my head and see what it was but I knew that I couldn't because any vague train of thought that I had managed to salvage would be gone in seconds if I did.

"From now on please at least attempt to stay on topic, Miss Swan."

"Sure. I mean, of course Madame Mayor." I clutched the paper nervously in my hands and cursed internally at the crinkles that appeared. My fingers were shaking as I tried to smooth them out. God, this was worse than any job interview I'd had so far, that's for sure.

"I, ah, I wanted to apologise for walking into you earlier. I wasn't paying attention and I'm sorry if any coffee spilt on you." I smoothed out a major wrinkle. "Also, Graham wanted me to fix this, us, because he doesn't want for there to be any bad blood between us."

As my eyes scanned down to the next point, Regina spoke up. "Explain that."

"About Graham?" I almost looked up in my surprise – I had thought that point was rather self-explanatory actually – but managed to stop in time. "Oh, um, well." God that voice just warped things. Like, for instance, my ability to explain things. "I'm the new deputy and if there's bad blood then I guess that could make work uncomfortable or awkward?" I stuttered consistently throughout my speech. At least I'm consistent.

"You are the deputy?" she husked. God. She _husked_.

"Yes ma'am."

"I won't allow it," she said darkly from behind her desk. I heard and sort of saw her standing, bracing herself against the desk. She meant business. "I very expressly told Sheriff Humphrey that-"

"I know what you told him, Madame Mayor." Thank God I wasn't looking at her otherwise I would never have been able to speak without a single waver. I even managed to look up a little, though I kept my focus on her desk rather than on the lovely mayor. "May I just say this, though," I began politely. My blood began to boil from all the memories of exactly the kind of bullshit she had put Graham through. My spine straightened and my shoulders snapped back. I raised my chin a little. "Sheriff Humphrey isn't someone who will kneel and lick your boots. He is a good, strong man. He is here to keep the peace and enforce the law. And ma'am, with all due respect, Sidney Glass isn't going to help with any of that."

There was a small pause as Regina settled herself. I watched from the corner of my eye as she crossed her legs. I could feel her gaze burning me. "I can have you fired," she said finally. Her voice was low with promise. Dark.

"No," I said simply. "You can't. The position of Deputy is directly appointed or revoked by their superior officer." I heard a faint crackle of paper and, glancing down at my side, saw that it wasn't me. Must be Regina. I smiled a little – I must be getting to her. "That would be Graham. Not you."

"I can have Graham fired," she said instead. She even sounded _bored_.

That's when I got a little cranky. This woman sure was a handful. "Again, Madame Mayor, you can't. That is decided by election of the people and by the board of directors in the town of which you are only one." Yeah, I researched that. Better to be prepared, right?

"I can have your position questioned, Miss Swan. It is in serious jeopardy as it is seeing as you are a stranger to our town."

"Look, lady," I was getting tired of all this, "you don't know me. I get it. It makes you nervous, gets you agitated, fine. But if you go to Graham and tell him you don't think I'm suited for the job, do you know what he'll do?" Silence greeted my question. I smiled widely. "He's gonna laugh at you. Tell you there's no need to worry. I passed my medical, my physical, gave him my bank details, proved to him that I am a _hell_ of a shot. Plus, he's already given me these bad boys." I opened my jacket to proudly display the awesome holsters Graham had fitted me with before resting my hand on the shining badge of my office.

"You do seem to be rather prepared for your role, Miss Swan," the mayor finally acknowledged.

"Deputy Swan, please." I corrected her. How about that, right? Wow. I raised my eyes a little and they locked onto hers. So dark and beautiful and irresistible and… I took a step back and shook my head. Damn. The blush was bad with a vengeance and I sighed.

"Deputy Swan," she said. "Tell me Deputy, are you like this around all new acquaintances?" She asked it softly but with a bite underneath. Graham had told me that the mayor was feisty and, at times, cruel. She searched for weaknesses. I was determined that this would not be a weakness.

"Like what, ma'am?"

"Unable to look at them, a blabbering fool, nervous, clumsy, all of the above?" She listed my, well, I guess they could be called faults in a precise and quick manner. I didn't flinch even a little. I'd already told Graham about them – there was no way she could use this against me. In fact…

I found it easy to meet her eyes this time. I knew exactly what my answer was going to be.

"No ma'am." I smiled more broadly, letting that fluttering feeling daze me just a little. "That's only for you."

And with that last little statement – enigmatic, I hoped, perhaps I piqued her interest, perhaps I was more than just the bumbling fool she thought me to be – I left her.

**Alright, what did you think? Let me know, dear friends. Henry will be back in the next chapter and I think he is just the cutest so hopefully I'll be writing a lot more of him. Let me know what you would like to see and I'll try and wrangle it in somewhere or perhaps turn it into a one shot in my story Operation Happy Ending. (Check it out if you haven't already). Feel free to message me and follow on tumblr – elizadownunder. I love messages and I'm happy to talk all the time. Happy reading, readers :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Four**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy.**

I left Regina's office with – and I will gladly admit it – a little skip to my walk. Michael, her secretary, waved me to him and he grinned up at me with a little twinkle.

"So," he asked, eager for gossip. "How did it go?" I just grinned at him and smiled, shaking my head. "Oh come on. You won't tell me anything?" I shook my head again and he sighed. "Boring."

"Yes, I am, but on the bright side I will bring you coffee every time I bring Regina coffee." He perked up at that and rattled off a complex coffee order that I committed to memory – large cappuccino, double pump of caramel, extra foam, chocolate top – and when he was done I frowned.

"I don't think they have a Starbucks here. And I don't think Granny's does that kind of coffee."

Michael sighed. "We don't and they don't. I just wanted to see if you would go to any great lengths for me." I frowned. "No? Fine. Then one milk and two sugars for me."

I smiled. "Got it. Thank you, Michael!" And, despite his crestfallen behaviour that I wouldn't drive thirty miles out of my way to find a Starbucks for him, he waved me off quite happily. Nice guy.

I checked my watch then and swore under my breath. It was just past three – I had to pick Henry up at half past. I sprinted back to my car and tapped my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel at every red light. "Come on!" I yelled. "There is no one there! The street is empty." Still the red light didn't shift and I sighed.

Henry was waiting patiently with Mary Margaret when I arrived, one minute late. He looked up at me and threw himself at my legs. I left him there; his arms wrapped around my left leg so I just stumped my way over to his teacher, dragging him behind me.

"Hi, Mary Margaret," I started. The perky grade school teacher interrupted me immediately.

"Oh, please, call me MM. All my friends do."

I paused. Blinked. Blinked again. "Ah, alright." Were we friends? I had only met the woman this morning? She seemed nice enough though and it wasn't like I anticipated the urge to punch her would arise any time soon, so I accepted the statement and nodded. "Well thanks for waiting with Henry, MM, I really appreciate it."

"I didn't mind." Her beaming face told me she did in fact not mind in the slightest. "Henry is a great kid." Henry looked up at his name and I laid a hand on his head.

"Yeah. He is." Henry hugged my leg and I smoothed his hair down. A little warmth, one I frequently associate with Henry, flashed in my chest. It was nice to hear someone else acknowledge Henry, to hear that they thought he was as wonderful as I did. "Um – same time tomorrow?" I asked the teacher and she nodded enthusiastically. "Great thanks bye."

Henry tugged himself up from the ground and placed both of his little hands in mine. "Mamma." He yanked on my arm. "Up." And his voice was so serious that I obeyed instantly, hauling him off the ground and turning so that he lay, clinging my back. I piggy-backed him down the street and listened to his excited chatter.

"And Miss Blanchy has a cat and his name is Mr Whiskers-"

"Whiskers?" I interjected. "Why would she name him that?" I was glad that he couldn't see my face because there was no way that I could hide my smile.

Henry smacked me lightly on the head. "Mamma! His name is Mr Whiskers because he's a boy cat and because kitties have whiskers. You're so silly." I jogged a little, jostling him, in retribution but it just made him giggle and clutch me tighter. "And Mr Whiskers is super cute and he let me pat him and then we had lunch and Miss Blanchy let me have a jelly cup and _two_ sandwiches and we read a book about some birdies and then we played a game of tiggy and I tagged _four_ people and-"

And so it went for the entire walk home. Henry chattered happily about his day and I nodded along, beaming. My kid was happy. He was happy and everything was working out just superbly. How could I not be happy? It was just past four when we ambled up the stairs to Graham's apartment and Henry, his speech coming in stops and starts, began to sag. I easily manoeuvred him to his bed and closed the door quietly. I knew that he would come to get me when he was hungry.

I set myself up at Graham's dinner table – our dinner table now that I'm sharing the rent, I suppose – and pull out all the paper work with my name on it. Graham had clearly dropped it off sometime today. I sighed and pulled out my glasses. Better get to work.

I'm not sure how long it was before Henry came to find me but I heard his feet clattering down the stairs and when I turned around to face him, he was holding out a blanket to me and a sheet of paper.

"Mamma," he murmured. "Make them for me."

"Magic word, Henry?"

He pouted and sighed. "_Abracadabra_ make them for me?"

I smiled at my son, eyes rolling at his audacity, but took the blanket and paper from him. "Okay, hop up here for me." I pat the table and Henry clambered up eagerly. I scrutinised him, turning his face this way and that, and then nodded. "Yeah, that's perfect Henry." With a few quick movements, the blanket was around his shoulders and knotted carefully around his neck loosely. Then, folded swiftly, a paper crown sat on Henry's head (it was actually a pirate hat but it was the only kind of hat that I could make). "Happy now?"

He nodded and, taking my hand, led me to the kitchen. He raised his hands above his head and I hoisted him onto the counter before handing him a wooden spoon.

With Henry in his customary place as King of the kitchen, I shuffled and banged and slammed my way through all of Graham's drawers and cupboards looking for spaghetti. Victoriously holding it aloft, we cheered and set about making our dinner.

"Mamma?" Henry asked about ten minutes into our dinner making journey. I turned to look at him so he knew I was listening. "Why are you so happy?"

I tilted my head to consider the question. After a moment, I recognised the feeling of my face smiling and heard a very faint humming. I was very happy. "Well, because you're happy," I answered him immediately. And it's true. I mean, it's definitely a large part of why I'm happy. Just…not all of it.

"Uhuh." Oh no – the kid inherited my cynicism. Blast. "And?" He pulled the word out, fixing me with a no-nonsense stare. I surrendered to his superior interrogating skills with a sigh and a shake of my head.

"You're so clever, Henry. I can't hide anything from you." He nodded. "I made a friend today." Okay, so it maybe wasn't the most accurate way to describe Regina because she hadn't been very friendly at all but it was the only way I could think of to describe her to my five-year-old.

"A friend?" he asked slowly.

"Yep."

"Who?" Henry sounded angry and, when I looked up from the pasta at him, he looked angry as well. I blinked in surprise. Henry was never angry.

"Her name is Regina," I told him. "What's wrong, kid?"

Henry's lower lip jutted out instantly and he frowned. "I thought I was your friend, mamma."

"You are," I laughed. "But I made another friend today."

"I'm sorry!" he wailed suddenly. "I'll be a better friend!" I blinked again in shock before I reacted. My hand came up to switch the stove to off in a quick movement. The next moment, I found myself in front of Henry. I scooped him up into my arms and felt his little arms wind around my neck and his legs clutch my waist tightly.

"Oh Henry," I shushed, "you've done nothing wrong. Nothing at all." From his increased cries and wails, that obviously didn't soothe him in the slightest. "You're the best friend in the world," I rushed to tell him. "You _are_. Shh shh it's okay." I began to walk us around the apartment in the hope that the movement would calm him. I kissed his temple lovingly, lingering there for a moment, and his sobs slowed and hitched as he breathed through them.

"Why d'you want 'nother friend for?" he asked, question muffled from where he was leaning into my neck. I rubbed his back and laughed a little.

"It's not like I went looking for her, Henry," I teased him. "It was a surprise." Let me just say – that is the understatement of the century. "Making friends is like…it's like being given a present. I didn't know that I would meet her today and I certainly didn't plan for it to happen."

Henry hugged my neck and I waited for him to talk. "Do you like 'Gina more than me?" he asked finally, pulling back so he could stare into my eyes. He searched mine for answer, little lower lip still trembling dramatically.

I felt a wide, beaming smile take over my face. My arms tightened again around Henry and I spun us around until he squealed with delight. "Henry," I laughed, "you are my most perfect thing. I could never ever _ever_ love_ anyone_ more than I love you. Not in a hundred thousand million bajillion years." And with that, I planted a smacking kiss on his forehead. He squealed again, this time in indignation, and demanded that I place him back on the counter.

"Food now, mamma. I'm hungry."

"Sure, kid." I lowered him to his kitchen throne and he swept up his wooden spoon again. I shuffled back into place and – oh thank god – the spaghetti was salvageable. "Hey, Henry, don't even worry about this. You'll make friends at school on Monday and you'll come home to tell me all about them, okay? You won't even need me."

"I made a friend today, mamma," Henry corrected. He was focused on waving his wooden spoon violently, slashing, I supposed, at hordes of enemies. He certainly didn't think about his next words. "Her name is Grace and I love her and I'll marry her one day."

I paused in my stirring of the pasta. I considered Henry for a moment, wondering if his day had been more like mine that I'd expected. "How do you know that?"

Henry shrugged. "'Cause I know. And we're gonna be the bestest friends ever!" He beamed at me and I smiled back. He rarely looked so enthusiastic and I could just see the gap where one of his teeth had fallen out.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He nodded emphatically.

"Okay then. Maybe we can have her over for a play date then?"

Henry considered that idea for a long moment before nodding. "Okay. Is dinner ready yet? I'm hungry."

"Yeah kid. Almost."

**Cuteness in next chapter, lovelies (between Emma and Regina. Hopefully. I'm working on it). Please review and as always happy reading, readers :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Five**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy.**

"No, I understand Mrs Beechley. Yes of course. Of course. That's not," I sucked in a breath to avoid groaning loudly. "That's not really my job, ma'am. But I can call up animal control for you?" Finally, after at least ten minutes of the woman yammering at me about the blasted dog in her yard that howls day and night and barks and is apparently the spawn of Satan, I managed to get her to agree to talk to animal control. I hung up and laid my palms over my eyes. Good god, I don't know how Graham had managed before I came along to distract all the idiots in this town.

"Hey Emma!" Graham called out from his office and I turned to him with a frown.

"If you tell me that Mrs Beechley has called you – that is _not_ my fault." He grinned at me broadly, shaking his head, and waved me over. I seated myself on his desk. "What's up?"

"Well you have the day off tomorrow and-"

"Hold up – what now? I thought my day off was Sunday."

"It is. Well, that's one of your days off. Deputies only work four days a week. You've got Tuesdays and Fridays off as well." A deep frown marred Graham's face. "I thought, God, I thought you knew that. It was in the contract." He ran a hand over his hair, anxious, and I felt bad for him. It wasn't his fault that I hadn't realised. "Sorry?"

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. What did you want?" I'll just find another part time job, I suppose. Plus, it'll let me have more time with Henry. Seeing he was still nervous and fidgety at the thought that he'd screwed me over – which he hadn't – I smiled. "I'm serious, Graham. It's fine."

"You're sure? Because I bet I could find a way to-"

"Nope. No." I cut him off quickly, shaking my head. "Don't. Please don't worry about it."

Graham very slowly relaxed and nodded. "Alright. Well, I was thinking that because it's your day off tomorrow…" He hesitated. I kicked him in the shin. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Being annoying. Just tell me what you want or let me do my work."

He sighed. "Right. I was hoping that you would take these files to the Mayor's office. Seeing as you two are so close and all."

"And because you're terrified of her."

"That also."

I eyed the files. There, in that tower of papers, was a potential for disaster. I could drop them everywhere. I could set something on fire. I could lose them. I could accidentally spill something on them. And I could make myself into a fool in front of the wonderful Madame Mayor. And, most importantly, I would get to see the wonderful Madame Mayor.

"Sure, okay." Graham let out a rush of breath at my agreement and sagged a little. I think he sagged from dizziness more than relief because there is a possibility that he'd been holding his breath while I thought about the proposition – and I think for a long time on occasion.

"Great! Thank you so much, Emma! I owe you big time."

"Yes. Yes you do," I grumbled magnanimously.

For the remainder of the morning, I considered what to do, what to say, what to wear, when I finally came face to face with the woman again. 'Finally' might be an overstatement. It had been less than two days. Still.

The phone rang and I answered. "Sheriff's office – Deputy Swan speaking."

"Deputy," a voice called to me through the line. I closed my eyes and lowered my head to the desk slowly, without a sound.

"Mrs Beechely," I said. Trying not to sigh. Or groan. "How may I assist you now?"

"You can come over here yourself and do what these imbeciles have failed to do!" The woman screeched in my ear for another full minute before I'd had enough. And I said as much.

"Enough! Mrs Beechely, this line is reserved for citizens who have issues relating to the _law_. Do you have an issue with the law?" I asked.

"Well…no," she said.

"Very well. In that case, please allow the animal control workers to do their jobs. Thank you and have a good day." It felt amazing to hang up on her. Just amazing.

Unfortunately, the phone rang sharply a minute later.

"Sheriff's office. Deputy Swan here."

"Uh, Deputy, this is David Nolan from animal control." His voice was calm until he shouted 'Jesus Christ woman!' and then there was a crackle of static. I sat up straight and slid my gun into its holster.

"Mr Nolan, where are you?" I kept my voice purposefully calm.

"At Mrs Beechely's house. It's just-"

"I'll be right there." I slammed the receiver down and grabbed my jacket, sprinting to the cruiser. This was starting to get personal, Beechely.

* * *

I used the sirens. It was awesome.

* * *

A short, stubby, broad man greeted me outside the house. He swaggered up to me and jerked his head in a nod. I shook his hand. "You must be the sheriff chick," he grunted. This was definitely not Nolan. Different voices.

"Deputy Swan," I offered with a nod.

"Leroy. He's 'round here." He jerked his thumb to the back garden and I laid a hand on my gun.

"Mr Nolan?" Leroy frowned at my question and shrugged.

"David? Yeah, he's there. But I was talking about _him_." And by him, I took it to mean the ball of fluff that was sprinting away from a tall, broad shouldered man. It was actually a pretty cute ball of fluff. Except for the fact that the damage to this garden – broken tree branches, trodden flowers, chewed lawn furniture – appeared to be directly related to it. Oh, and it was coming right for me.

Leroy jumped out of the way, yelping, and I rolled my eyes. I squatted, grabbed the creature, and stood. It squirmed for a moment, nails scrabbling and scratching at my forearms, and it growled at me until it realised that there was no way I was going to be intimidated by its cuteness and then it was still. It even whined a little in defeat.

Both men stared at me openly with shock. I moved the fluff ball into the crook of my left arm and held my right out to the man I presumed to be David Nolan.

"Deputy Swan," I greeted him.

"David," he panted, bent over slightly with hands on knees. "How did you – that was – how?"

"How did I catch this adorable little creature? Let me answer that with another question – why do you look like you've been mauled?"

David's face coloured slightly and he ducked his head. "Well, see, the dog was peeing all over Mrs Beechely's garden."

"I know. She called me. Four times." David and I shared companionable grimaces.

"Right, exactly. So I came out here to take care of it and when I got here it was _still_ peeing everywhere so I went to get him but he dove into the flowerbeds and I was going to go after him but Mrs Beechely grabbed me and tore my shirt and told me I wasn't allowed to step into the flower patch. So I was trying to tempt the dog out but he started eating the tulips and she started to become a little hysterical and she was throwing things. And that's when I called you."

I absent-mindedly patted the puppy on his head. His tail wagged happily. I spied Mrs Beechely on the porch and wandered over to her, flipped the edge of my jacket clear away from the badge on my hip.

"Hello ma'am. Nice to finally meet you."

"And you, Deputy Swan. I see you've caught the menace."

I patted the dog again. "Sure did." I chewed the inside of my mouth for a few moments, trying to choose the right words for what I wanted to say. "Look, Mrs Beechely, I understand that you love your garden and that it is important to you but if you could refrain from throwing objects at people – like Mr Nolan, for instance – I would really appreciate that. I'd hate to have to write you up for assault."

She stared at me for a long moment. "Keep that thing out of my garden," was her only response. The door to her house closed loudly behind her.

I hugged the puppy to my chest. "That went well, didn't it puppy?" I said in my baby voice. It woofed softly in agreement. "That's what I thought." I marched us back to David and Leroy, who had convened out the front, and held the squirming mass out to David. "Here you go."

"Oh no," he said, taking a step back. "No – that thing is not going in my van. Or anywhere near me. Not a chance."

I smiled, thinking he was joking, and held the dog out again but he just backed up farther and I sighed. "Are you serious?"

"Yes! That thing is a devil. It almost got me killed. I'm not taking it."

I gritted my teeth and glared at the man. David smiled uneasily and then blurted out a 'nice to meet you, deputy' before sprinting away.

"You've got great people skills there, sister," Leroy grunted. Then he laughed at me. I turned my glare on him and what do you know? He stopped laughing. The puppy barked and burrowed his head into my side. I smiled at the gesture, relaxing. I nodded my head and walked the stocky man out to his truck.

"Hey Leroy, Graham tells me you're the handyman around here. That true?"

"Sure is, sister. What do you need done?"

"Me? Nothing. Only I was wondering if you needed a spare pair of hands."

"Deputy sheriff not working out for you?" he teased. I shook my head, laughing.

"Graham only needs me four days. So I don't suppose you need a casual worker?"

"Look, deputy, I like you. I think you've got spunk and I like the way you handled that back there." I just caught a dog, I thought, but if he was impressed then good for me. "So here's the deal. You let me off with a warning a time or two and I'll see what I can do."

I smirked. Now I knew who L. Grumph was. I'd read his files. "I don't think so. How about I do what Graham's always done and just let you sleep it off in the cell?" Leroy pouted – a strange expression on his rather unfortunate face – but relaxed into a smile.

"Deal. You and Graham are too good to me."

"Probably," I easily agreed. The man was kind of a drunken nuisance. I particularly enjoyed the file on last Christmas concerning a Santa suit. "So, casual work?"

Leroy shrugged. "Sure thing. Just text me when you're free and I'll get some stuff for you to do. It won't be great money," he warned.

I nodded. "I've done this kind of stuff before. I just need something to fill the money gaps – and the time gaps," I added, remembering those times when boredom took over. Closely followed by itching fingers and jail time.

"Well alright then." He rubbed his balding head and shrugged. "You know what – check with the waitress chick at Granny's. She always knows what's going on. Maybe she'll have a job for ya." I thanked him again and he slapped me on the back. Hard. "Good to meet ya, Swan. I'm sure gonna look forward to waking up to your face," he said, eyebrows waggling lasciviously.

I shuddered slightly as he hopped into his truck. My nose wrinkled and the puppy growled lowly with me. Gross. I shook my head and muttered to myself quietly. So intently was I focused on ridding myself of that image, I didn't hear the click of heels on the pavement behind me.

"What is that?"

"Oh my god!" I spun and stumbled back, clutching tightly to the puppy. I was ready to utterly destroy verbally whoever had decided it was a good idea to sneak up on me. But, of course, I was unable to form a single scathing remark as my would-be attacker was Regina.

"What is _that_, Miss Swan?"

"Deputy Swan," I corrected her. And holy smokes, I think I saw a tiny fraction of a smile emerge before her icy mayoral mask returned.

"Yes, indeed. Deputy Swan. Please answer my question, _Deputy_."

"Question?" I asked, confused, my tongue feeling a mite too big for my mouth. I blame this on her surprising me with her presence. If I'd known she was going to be near me, I wouldn't have looked at her.

Like I'm doing now. Well, perhaps looking isn't the right word for it.

Staring. Scrutinising. Pleasing my eyes. Rejuvenating. Using my eyes to the best of their ability in order to better see every part of the perfection before me.

I couldn't stop staring.

"Is there something on my face, Deputy?" she asked me finally. I noticed a faint blush and blinked. Had I made her uncomfortable?

"Sorry," I murmured. I snapped my eyes away from her and focused on my feet instead. "No ma'am. There's nothing on your face." _Except beauty_, I added in my head.

"Very well. What are you holding?" At her attention, the puppy started wriggling and yipping. I ruffled his ears.

"This is my dog."

"Your dog?"

"Um." Well. I'd really just said it meaning that it was a dog and that I was holding it and I'd caught it but the more I thought about it, the more completely certain I was that Henry would come to have a dog. I smiled at the face I knew he would make and I nodded. Decision made. "Yeah. My dog."

"I see. And when did you make this acquisition?"

I shrugged. "About ten minutes ago."

There came a silence in which she stared at me – I could feel her looking at me and the hair on my neck prickled – and I avoided looking at her in the slightest. Instead, I just ruffled my puppies hair and enjoyed the blissful loving expression it gave me. Plus its got the cutest little nose and its eyes are so sweet and –

"Are your affections always gained so swiftly, Deputy Swan?"

I, naturally, answered this incredibly intelligently and I looked up quickly with a confused frown firmly in place. "Huh?"

"Your affections, Deputy. You met that creature ten minutes ago and you appear to be quite besotted."

A slight twist to her mouth made me blurt out a teasing "are you jealous, Madame Mayor?" before I looked away again.

"Of a dog? I should think not." I smiled anyway because something told me she was lying.

"Why are you here, Deputy?" she asked abruptly.

I looked up from my puppy and jerked my thumb back to Mrs Beechely's house. "Mrs Beechely was having animal troubles and animal control was having Mrs Beechely troubles."

She just lifted one of those adorable eyebrows until it arched. I felt like applauding. The movement was sheer poetry.

"Why do you ask, Madame Mayor?" I fought to keep my eyes focused on hers and to keep the rest of my body under control. God damn it but I actually _did_ want to be able to look at and simultaneously talk with this lady.

"It is no matter." But she looked so shifty and so I looked down the street, where I spied a gorgeous white mansion. What was that Graham had told me? '_The woman has the biggest, whitest, richest mansion in the whole world, Emma. It's crazy_.' I smirked.

"You thought I was stalking you?"

She frowned. "No."

"No? Are you sure?" I looked back at her and saw that faint blush again. "Cause I think you did, Madame Mayor."

"I certainly did not." Her lips pursed and she shifted her weight from one hip to the other. I couldn't help but notice that, for some reason, she wasn't walking away from me.

"I see." I nodded with understanding.

Okay – hold up. Can I just say something really quick? I know I just met the woman two days ago and I know that I just keep getting whacked over the head by how stunning she is but there's more to it than that. And normally, normally dear God, that would scare me. Terrify me. But not today. Not with her. I mean, yeah, there are things that I'm scared of like the irrational feeling everything I'm walking down the stairs that I'll trip and flash everyone – regardless of whether or not I'm wearing a dress – and simultaneously hit every single stair on the way down and die. And I'll still have this fear when I'm around her but as for the normal fears like 'oh my god she's going to kill me for staring at her' or 'oh my god feeling like this about a woman is wrong even though logically I know that homosexuality is quite common' – as I was saying, as for the normal fears, I don't have them.

I want to be her friend. I want to make this woman laugh. I want to make her smile. (Somewhat because when she smiles delightful things happen like angels singing and world peace but also because I would like her to smile and be generally happy. I want to be the reason she is smiling. So, I offer her a wide, if somewhat nervous, smile and shrug my shoulders.

"Where are you off to on this fine day, Madame Mayor?" She eyes me suspiciously and the combination of narrowed eyes and pursed lips makes me think of things that make me feel guilty so I shift uncomfortably while trying to maintain my smile. I probably look like a maniac.

"Why?" she asks slowly.

"So I can walk you there. If you want. I'd just feel better to know that you got there safely. Wherever that is."

She flips her hair – oh god who knew that hair flipping could look like that? – and eyes me. Still suspicious.

"Why?"

"Well…" I scramble for an answer. "Because it's in my duty as deputy to make sure all citizens are safe and well. It wouldn't do to miss out on making sure our own Mayor is safe." I moved Puppy to my other arm, the left starting to ache. She, the mayor, began to walk briskly in the direction of the town proper. She stopped when we reached my cruiser.

"Isn't this your car, Deputy Swan?"

I eyed it and then her, thinking quickly. "If I say yes, will you let me drive you where you want to go?" I asked hopefully.

"No."

"Ah." Puppy whimpered with disappointment and I nodded, agreeing with my rather vocal dog. "Then no. This is not my car."

"It's not?" Her voice dropped in surprise and mild confusion. I shivered at the sound but managed a smile.

"Nope. No ma'am." Her eyes roamed over my face and my posture, which I straightened when I realised she was looking.

"Very well." And with that, she turned on her heels and strode off down the street. I jogged to catch up with her and we walked in companionable silence for a time. Well, until Puppy started to whine and squirm. I sighed and placed him down on the ground. He looked up at me. I looked down at him.

"Alright," I told the puppy. "Do your business. But then you're walking _next_ to me – I ain't carrying you. Got it?" Puppy woofed and trotted off to a nearby bush, lifting his leg to pee. A moment later, when he was done, I whistled and he trotted back to me. I beamed down at him – who would have thought that a puppy would be smart enough to follow my command? – and then started to walk again.

Naturally, being my normal clumsy self, I walked straight into Regina, having forgotten that she was there. "Sorry. Sorry!" I took a large step back and yanked my hands back. They burned faintly with memory of brushing against Regina's soft, perfect suit. I blushed and shoved my hands into my jean pockets.

"It's quite alright, Deputy Swan." She glanced down at the dog and I could see the faintest sign of a smile. "Your dog is…"

"Awesome," I said for her. "Yeah, I know." I rocked back in my boots and scratched at the back of my neck. "So where are we off to?"

"My office." She peered at the dog. "Are you sure it isn't going to run away?"

I nudged Puppy with my foot and shrugged again. "Nah, he's not gonna run. And if he does run away I'll just chase him down. I'm pretty good at it."

"Hmm." The noncommittal sound made me laugh.

"You don't believe me!" I accused. She arched an eyebrow and began to goddamn sashay down the street. Puppy and I caught up to her, again, and I walked backwards so I could point an accusatory finger at her. "You don't believe me, do you? I will have you know that I've been a bounty hunter for two years, Madame Mayor. I'm great at chasing people."

"Really? Two years? What did you do before that?"

I shrugged uncomfortably, thinking of Henry and before my beautiful boy was born the jail and before that the constant shift of foster homes. "Stuff."

I think that must have confused her. I mean, I've been pretty open about everything so far so the fact that I was so silent, I don't know. I just it was a surprise. We walked together for a few minutes until she stopped abruptly. I walked a few more paces before having to spin around and return to her.

"Everything alright, Madame Mayor?" She gestured up to her office. I hadn't even realised that we were at her building. "Oh." I glanced down at Puppy. "Sit!" He sat. "Stay?" He cocked his head to the side and seemed to sigh, lying down on the pavement. "Awesome." I knelt and briskly patted his head. "Well what are you waiting for, Madame Mayor? Let me walk you up."

She raised a brow but allowed me to escort her inside. We walked up to her office and I happily greeted Michael.

"Emma!" He stood and hugged me. I patted his back awkwardly. I'm not really a hugger. "Oh." He cleared his throat and retreated, shifting papers on his desk. "Good afternoon, Madame Mayor. You're back early."

"Yes. I am." And with that, she swept into her office and closed the doors behind her.

"Bye, Madame Mayor!" I called out, leaning my hip against Michael's desk. "I'll see you later!" There was no reply but Michael was smiling broadly, hiding the smile behind his hand. I glanced over to him. "She'll warm up to me."

"Mhmm." He settled down behind his desk and crossed his legs. "Girl, what are you doing?"

"What are you talking about?" I frowned. "I just walked her to her office."

"Sure, sure." He pursed his lips. "Well, if you need any help wooing her, just let me know."

"Michael!" I frowned at him. "I'm not wooing her! Plus - you don't know anything about me," I lightly scolded. "I could be a freak and you're just passing her off to me. I am disappointed."

"Honey, I saw the way you looked at her just now. And you are _definitely_ a freak." He laughed at my annoyed expression and shook his head. "Can't fake that kind of emotion, Deputy."

"I just want to be her friend," I held up my hands in surrender. I paused and bit my lip. "But, hypothetically, if you _do _happen to know what kind of food she likes or allergies so I don't make a fool of myself I'd be really happy to know that."

"So noted." His phone rang and he pointed to it with a guilty look. I backed slowly out of the room and he waved.

Okay, so I lied. I don't want to just be her friend. But it would be a _really_ great start. I hope I didn't freak her out though. I do want her to like me - and the best way to do that, surely, is to be friends with her. Right? Plus I like to talk to her when I can manage to keep my wits about me.

**Okay y'all. I don't particularly love this chapter but I owed you something. I've been sick a couple of weeks and thus completely incapable of doing anything. Hope you liked it – let me know. If you want to chat, check me out on tumblr – elizadownunder. Happy reading, readers :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Six**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy. And I'd like to thank you all so much for the lovely reviews and to reassure you that, yes, I am almost entirely not sick anymore. And thank you again for the reviews. **

Everything is fine. I repeat, everything is fine. Everything is – oh who am I kidding? I don't know what I'm doing! I mean, shouldn't this get easier every time you do it? Apparently not.

Henry stared up at me. His shorts are too long and his shirt is untucked and his toothbrush hangs limply from his mouth as he tries to press down those wayward strands of his hair. I stare down at Henry. I have work in twenty minutes and at the moment…well. To say that I'm not ready is an understatement.

"Right. Okay. I'm sorry my alarm didn't go off" – stupid piece of shit clock – "but that stuff happens sometimes." Henry nodded and scrubbed his teeth slowly. "You go finish getting dressed and I'll work this out by myself."

"But mamma,"

"No buts mister! I can do this, okay?"

Henry hurrumped and stamped up the stairs. "I wanna cookie!" Cookie. Okay. Good. Got it. "And a sammich!" My mom brain, somehow, was completely switched on and I translated that easily. Sandwich. Okay. Good. Got it. "And an apple!" He hollered down the stairs.

"An apple?" I yell back.

"An apple!" I shook my head, confused by the request. Not because he asked for fruit – because though I find giving him store-bought food and cookies and stuff like that, I also try to promote healthy eating. Cereal is healthy, right? Anyway, it's strange because he's never liked apples. Ever. But fine. Apple. Good. Okay. Got it.

Following lunch was a notebook, pencil, pen, book, stuffed dragon, hat, water bottle, and a miniature first aid kit (band-aids really). I searched frantically through the items. Had I missed anything?

"Mamma," Henry called to me from the stairs. He had pulled on his shoes but the laces were dangling loose on either side of his feet. "Mamma!"

"I'm coming, Henry." I threw everything into his bag and dropped it next to him. "Okay, remember the rules?" He nodded. I knelt and took the strings, pulling them tight. "No running inside. Don't eat with your mouth open. Be polite to your teachers and everyone else. Try your best in all of your classes. And no pushing, shoving, punching, biting, or kicking."

"Unless I'm in danger," he said matter-of-factly as he curiously watched me tie his laces.

"Yes of course. Unless you're in danger." The thought, abhorrent and filling me with a cold sense of dread, shook me to my core as it always had. The idea… I finished tying the laces quickly and grabbed Henry's face gently. He blinked up at me. "And if you are in danger, you scream as loud as you can and kick them where it hurts, remember?" My boy nodded solemnly and I pressed a light kiss to his forehead. "Good boy."

I haul myself to my feet and blink away my abrupt fear. Henry stands as well, hair brushed, bag in hand, eyes bright. "You ready?" He nods emphatically and I smile at his enthusiasm. "Well Mamma isn't so just wait here a second, okay?" He nods again but rolls his eyes and I narrow mine. Did Graham teach him that? Or had I? Either way, it wasn't a habit I wanted him to have.

But I didn't have time to deal with that now. I dashed into my bedroom and, looking down at my ragged jeans and white tank, decided what I had on would just have to do for today. I shrugged on my holsters and my favourite jacket, hoping it would hide the little holes in my shirt, and tied my hair up into an – oh well – imperfect ponytail. Moments later, I hopped into the hall and tried to balance as I pulled on my boots.

"Let's go, Henry!" I bellowed into the apartment, grabbing my guns from the locked drawer along with my badge. My car keys I swiped from the bowl by the door. "Henry, let's go! Time's a wasting." I scooped him up into my arms and then held him over my shoulder, my boy laughing at the action, as I sprinted down the stairs.

* * *

Henry made it to class with only a moment to spare. He didn't even kiss me goodbye but he waved heartily as he was being ushered into the room. I wrote in my notebook _BUY NEW CLOCK_ – this morning's frantic events can never happen again. I don't want Henry to be annoyed with me.

I narrowly avoid walking into a poll when my phone rings, jerking my head up from the paper to see the post in front of me. I look around but the street is empty and I don't think that anyone saw my near blunder.

Yanking my phone to my ear I call out a distracted "what's up?"

"Is that an appropriate manner in which to answer your work phone, Deputy?" Regina's voice slips into my ears, sending my heart into mild and entirely appropriate palpitations.

"Ugh." I cough. "Good morning, Madame Mayor. How can I help you today?"

"I was merely wondering what could possibly have delayed you to this extent." I glanced at my watch. Damn. Nearly twenty minutes late.

"I'm sorry, Madame Mayor. It won't happen again." There is a brief pause. I can imagine her sitting at her desk, glaring at some point on the wall. Unforgiving. Curious. I can also imagine that point on the wall quivering in fear, silently begging the paint not to peel away so to leave one last defence between itself and the mayors stare. But that's just fanciful thinking.

"That was not an explanation, Deputy Swan." Ah – there it is again. Curiosity. And as much as I like the woman, I can't help but withhold Henry from her a little longer. I like the woman – I've made that abundantly clear, but she and almost all of the citizens of this town have seen fit to remind me that she is not a nice person. I've kind of made it my duty to keep Henry away from not-nice people so, until I'm absolutely certain that Regina is my friend – or, indeed, even capable of friendliness as I believe that she is – then she won't know about my son.

"My alarm clock malfunctioned," I said after a pause in the conversation. It was the truth. Just, you know, not all of the truth.

"I see." Oh boy. She thinks I'm lying. I can tell from the low voice, the slight pause that hints at wanting to call out bullshit. "Are you coming by my office today, Deputy? I have a deal of paperwork for you to look over." And there it is. The punishment.

I manage to subdue the sigh mostly by telling the part of my brain that hates paperwork that it will be okay because I'll get to see Regina. And that makes it all okay. "Yeah, sure, that sounds good. I'll be there in twenty minutes. I just need to go and see Graham at the station."

"That sounds to be acceptable, Deputy. Twenty minutes." And then she hung up on me. I shook my head a little. Had the woman had a friend before? Was she aware of how to say goodbye to people without dismissing them? Whatever the answer, I couldn't help but find it just a little endearing. I know. I'm in deep.

Graham just laughs when I told him about this morning and admitted that he'd already clocked me on.

"I thought you might have," he cut himself off suddenly. "Um, I mean, I thought something might have happened."

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing."

"Graham."

"No."

"Graham."

"Ugh. Nothing, okay?"

I stared him down until he started to sweat and then nodded slowly. "Okay. Just know that I know you keep your comics in the top left cupboard in the kitchen and I also know where the scissors are." I turned to leave.

"No! I was just going to say that I thought you might have done something stupid but then I rethought it because it was not at all true or accurate or nice and I'm sorry please don't hurt my comics!" He was panting by the end of that and I wanted to laugh until I heard what he had said. Then I threw a book at him, which he promptly dodged, and yelled that I was going to see Regina and if he had any paperwork he needed signed he had better put it together before I came back with coffee.

When I did, finally, return with coffee there was a little stack of paper on my desk, a bear claw next to it, and a little slip of paper with the word 'sorry' written on it. I smiled and heard Graham yell 'ha! You smiled so I'm no longer in trouble!' from his office. I shook my head at his antics, held up his coffee, and placed it on my desk. I took a moment to re-organise everything in my arms until I could safely carry the paperwork, the coffees for me, Michael, and Regina and the bearclaw. It was hard.

"Sweetie!" Michael leapt up from his desk when I arrived, my arms trembling from trying to hold everything…and trying to eat my bearclaw. "What on earth?"

I widened my eyes pleadingly at the man. "Take your coffee!" I gestured with the take-away tray and he took it from me, pulling his cup out and putting it on his desk. "Thank you." I shrugged the paper up so it was more securely in my arms and ate the last morsel of my delicious, delicious pastry. He opened the door to Regina's office and let me in.

I stopped still when there was no sign of the mysterious, beautiful, intoxicating, fashionable, kind of bitchy, terrible, wonderful Mayor.

"Hey, where's Regina?"

He turned to me in a rather surprisingly effeminate way – swivelling on the balls of his feet and planting his hands on his hips. (Surprising because other than a slightly girlish squeal earlier when I came in juggling everything like a circus sideshow oddity and his proclivity for gossip, he is mostly quite manly.)

"You mean you don't know?"

"Um. No? I did just ask you."

"Oh Emma – she was mad with you." He whistled and shook his head. "She kept looking at the clock and tapping her foot." His eyes narrowed at me and he took a menacing step closer. "I don't _like_ it when she taps her foot, Emma."

"I'll try not to make her do it again?" I said, sort of asked, and he nodded.

"That's right. You won't. Because if you do, you'll be sitting outside this office for hours, just shoving the paperwork under the door and waiting in the cold for her to deign to give it back. Understood?"

I blinked. "Yes?" My voice was exceptionally squeaky by this point and Michael took it as a good sign.

"Good. Oh, and thanks for the coffee." And with that he strode out of the office and left me bemused and alone in Regina's office.

Hold up.

Alone.

In Regina's office.

I wonder if she has any post-it notes.

* * *

It was two hours before I heard from her. In the meantime, Graham had me filling in paperwork. I swear he had never bothered with the stuff before I got here and he was using me as convenient slave labour. Jerk. It was boring and tedious and every time I blinked, I swear my eyes resisted opening again. And then I dozed for a little while until I was awoken by my ringing phone.

"Deputy Swan," I answered, muffling a yawn. "How can I help?"

"Sleeping on the job, deputy?"

I sat up straight and beamed into the phone. "Not at all, Madame Mayor. And how are you on this fine day?"

"Are you responsible for what has occurred to my office, deputy?"

"Okay, two things Madame Mayor," I said, still smiling like a dolt. "One, do you ever enjoy a little small talk? A how are you today or a what lovely weather we're having? And two, to whatever are you referring?"

"I have no time for small talk, Deputy, because _someone_ has vandalised my office." Ooh – _cold_.

"There is always time for small talk, ma'am." I made my tone firm and unrelenting, meanwhile utterly certain that if she shot me down again I would comply meekly. And she must have had an inkling of this because she snapped a firm '_no_' into the phone and I sighed weakly, nodding. "Alright, ma'am, no small talk today. How about you tell me about this 'vandalism' and I'll see what I can do about it."

I swear I could almost hear her teeth grinding and it shouldn't thrill me as much as it does to make her this worked up but it does. It really does.

"Let's see," she bit out. "There are small paper squares covering every single object in my office. There are several lining the edge of my computer screen. My desk is entirely covered by these things." Yeah. She didn't have any post-it notes. Judging from her reaction, I doubt she'd ever seen them before. I had to go and buy some from the store just for her.

"Uhuh, I see." I scribbled a note (which was really just a little picture) and made appropriate agreeable noises.

"Are you writing all of this down?"

"Yes ma'am. On a small paper square thing."

"I knew you had something to do with this!"

"And you hadn't figured that out from where I'd written "you left before I could give you these papers. I guess our timetable didn't work out. Call me". And then in really big letters, "Emma"?"

A brief silence.

"That _is_ why I accused you, Deputy."

"Such a clever mayor."

"Get here now!" And then she slammed the phone down, I assume, because the dial tone rung harshly in my ears. I grabbed my jacket.

"Graham!" He poked his head out of his office. "I have to go to the mayor's office."

"Ooh get in trouble already?"

"I vandalised her office," I admitted with a shrug. Then, satisfied by the way his mouth flopped open in surprise, I jogged out of the station and all the way to her office, making a brief stop by Granny's. Michael accepted my greeting salute and gift of caffeine with a nod and a smile and waved me into Regina's office.

"Hey there, Madame Mayor."

She looked kind of adorable as she sat primly in her super awesome leather desk chair…surrounded on all sides by bright yellow sticky notes. She folded her hands on the desk and glowered at me.

My mind lost all semblance of functionality. I'd forgotten how her face and her, you know, Regina-ness were debilitating in the best of ways and I placed a hand casually on the wall behind me to make sure that I remained upright. I tore my eyes away from her and smirked when I saw the message I'd left for her. It was still there in big bold black letters over her head.

"You called, ma'am?"

"I did." She opened her mouth to continue, when I remembered that I'd brought her another coffee, certain that in the two hours she'd been absent from her office that the one I'd bought in the morning had gone cold. I held out the cup for her and maintained a steady eye contact with the floor as I approached her desk and placed it on the coaster. "Oh. Thank you."

"Sure." I shrugged and shoved my hands in my pockets. "So, what can I do for you?"

I guess I'd somehow startled her or something because she shook her head a little and her chin came up so that, though she was seated and thus lower than me, she appeared like she was looking down on me.

"You will fix _this_," she said, one hand waving to encompass the entirety of the office that I had lovingly decorated for her.

I retreated so that I was able to lean against the wall. "You don't like my decorations?" I looked up at them, down at the floor, across at the fireplace…anywhere that wasn't her.

"Look at me, Deputy Swan." Uh oh. A direct command. I raised my head and locked eyes with her and my traitorous mouth twitched up into a goofy smile. "Fix it." And then she looked down at her desk, at her paperwork, and said nothing more.

So I fixed it. I turned around and began to peel the squares off the door, then the table, and the mantle and each individual apple that sat in ridiculously expensive looking crystal bowl. When I crouched down to remove them from the legs of her desk, she finally spoke again.

"Why did you do this, Deputy?"

Naturally, I jumped up and whacked my head. Hard. She stood immediately, pushing her chair out, and began to move towards me but I scrambled back and, shaking my head, denied that I needed help. Which was possibly inaccurate but I think I might have fainted if she actually touched me.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I assured her. But seriously – what did she _think_ was going to happen? She waits for like twenty minutes until I'm next to her desk to talk to me and she _doesn't_ think 'oh, maybe I should wait so I don't surprise her and make her hit her head on my admittedly gorgeous desk'? Seriously. A little common courtesy.

"Are you certain?"

"Yep. Yes. One hundred per cent."

"You are bleeding, Deputy."

I took my hand down from my head, which didn't actually hurt that much anymore, and frowned. There was no blood. I looked up at her and she nodded to my shoulder, which hurt like a bitch now that I thought about it. And it was bleeding a little. I sighed. Yep. That was blood. Henry was going to have a stern talking to me about that. I remember last time I came home with a little blood on my and the kid ranted to me for almost a full half hour about making sure that I was careful and violence wasn't the answer and basically everything I ever told him when he was hurt.

"Um, no, I'm fine," I said when I realised she was still waiting for an answer. She settled into her chair once more and then stared at me. "Was there something else?"

"I believe I asked you a question, deputy. Why did you vandalise my office?"

"I wouldn't call it vandalism, ma'am. More like…" Well, yeah, okay so vandalism was pretty accurate but that didn't adequately portray the friendly manner in which I did it. "Teasing."

"Teasing." A flat tone that told me nothing of whether she was simply questioning me or delaying the punishment of execution or torture. I presumed questioning because I'm an optimistic shit sometimes.

"Sure. Didn't your friends or siblings ever rearrange your room or hide your stuff?" I didn't see her face change because I was kneeling again, looking for more of the blasted sticky notes, but I heard her tone become infinitely cooler so I assume that pinched look she gets when she is being bitchy or defending herself moved across that beautiful face.

"No. I am an only child."

I paused in my collecting and popped my head up over the edge of the desk. Her face was looking a little pinched, her eyes narrowed. "And your friends?" I asked cautiously.

"No," she said and left it at that.

I felt a slight tightening in my chest and lowered my eyes to the desk. "Well, you're wrong there 'cause I have now," I said lightly and ducked below the desk once more so she couldn't see the blush that spread over my face and down my neck.

"Why did you really do this, Deputy Swan?"

I sighed heavily and purposefully whacked my head against the desk. I had recently come to the conclusion that this wonderful (and wonderful looking) human being was ridiculously lonely, potentially sad, and highly suspicious of everyone. And it made me sad and the tightening in my chest had yet to pass.

"My name is Emma," I said from my place on the floor. I peeled the last sticky note off the bottom of the desk and stood, dumping them in the bin. "And I did it because I thought it would annoy you and make you call me and then I could come over here and talk to you and give you coffee."

"So you did know that it would annoy me," she said in an 'aha!' kind of voice. I admit that I then looked at her like she was the dumbest individual I had ever met.

"Yeah?" I drew the word out, punctuating once again how dumb her statement had been.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because that's what friends _do_, Regina." I shrugged.

She blinked and I had her there. She clearly didn't know what friends did for one another. But I kind of, sort of, did. I mean, no, I never had a friendship like that exactly but, well, I'd watched a lot of television and I'd read a couple of books and I knew what an ideal friendship was. You know: judgement free, fun, silly. (And come to think of it, a lot of the best relationships too. You know, the ones with sex thrown into the mix.)

"And you think you are my friend."

"Gee, you sound so encouraging there Regina. Yeah, I'm your friend."

"What makes you say that? I haven't agreed to that."

I scratched the back of my neck and frowned. "I don't think you have to. I think if I bring you coffee and make you smile then we're kind of already friends."

"When have you ever made me smile?" Frosty the Snowman would freeze in that icy tone. But I persevered.

"When you saw the post-it notes and saw who left them," I answered her easily, pretending like I wasn't intimidated. "Michael texted me." Her eyes narrowed and I remembered the promise I'd made to the guy. "Not that he had anything to do with my own, entirely my own, devious plan that he had nothing at all to do with," I said in a rush.

"I see." She traced her lips with a finger – god damn she's beautiful – and I suspect, beyond the part of my brain that cannot think, that it is to hide a smile from me. I take it.

"Good. Cool." An awkward silence ensued and then I gestured to her desk. "Do you need me to encroach on your personal space or can you clean that up yourself? I can wait if you want."

"I think I'll manage fine, dear." _Dear_. Nice. I like it. She looked down at the desk and removed the first post-it note. She looked up again. It was in that moment that I realised I'd been looking at her for at least a minute and lo and behold I was still mildly able to function. Success! "You may go," she dismissed.

* * *

Henry commented on my smile as I walked him home.

"You're smiling," he said.

"Yes," I agreed. "I am."

"Why?"

"You remember I told you about Regina? My friend?" He frowned a little, no doubt searching through his memories. He nodded. "I played a little trick on her today." I told him about my prank slowly and with my exaggeration and he looked up at me like I was some kind of god and it was by far the greatest feeling in the world.

"Did she laugh?" he asked, giggling along with me.

"She doesn't laugh a lot," I told him.

"Then how do you know if she liked it?" He looked up at me, suddenly quite serious, and I stopped.

"You're right." I held up my index finger, telling him to pause, and pulled out my phone. It was only three-thirty. That was an acceptable time to call her still, wasn't it? I dialled the number for her office and started walking again, enjoying the feel of Henry's little hand in mine. It became slightly distracting when he started hopping and counting out aloud but I managed.

"Mayor Mills," her voice answered coolly.

"Hey Regina."

"Deputy Swan."

I sighed. "_Emma_," I reminded her. Before she could disagree or answer me back, I continued. "Look, I just wanted to check that what happened today was okay. I didn't want to make you upset. It was just a joke."

She didn't answer for a long moment and I thought for exactly that same amount of time that Henry had been correct and that she had taken offence, despite Michael's texted assurance that she had smiled.

"I found it amusing, Dep- Emma." The pressure on my chest, which I hadn't realised had still been there, eased slightly at her mildly joking tone. "Which isn't to say that you should ever do it again. Understood?"

"Understood," I laughed. "Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow and pick up that paperwork if that's okay. Do you like bearclaws?"

"Bearclaws?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "Bearclaws. The delicious pastry that God fashioned." I saw next to me a little head nodding in complete understanding. Henry got it. Bearclaws – from the hands of God to the mouths of the faithful. The silence on her end of the phone continued. I nodded. "You've never had one. Figures. Okay, don't worry about it. I'll bring you one tomorrow and if you don't like it I promise to buy you a salad. See you later!"

And then I hung up, nerves having taken me over completely. I let out a shaky breath and whistled weakly. Henry frowned up at me. I don't think I'd ever sounded like that around him before. You know, completely out of my depth. He squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

"Come on, kid. Let's go home. And you can tell me all about your first day at school."

"Yes!" Henry almost screamed at me, and promptly demanded that I give him a piggyback ride all the way home.

**Hope you all enjoyed this! I have so much fun writing it and it's so nice to hear from people that are having almost as much fun reading it. Tell me if there is anything you would like to see. Reviews are very much appreciated. Happy reading, readers :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Seven**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy. (This one is dedicated to those reviewers who made me eep with glee upon reading their comments. It was you. Yes, you, who encouraged me to put down that book I desperately need to read to pass my university course and to pause in writing that essay I need to write and to do this instead.) (Also, please visit me on tumblr – tumblr is fun and certainly will not absorb every moment of your every day. My username is elizadownunder.)**

Today is going to be a good day. I mean, _damn_ it is going to be amazing. How could it not be? I woke up in the most amazing mood, after a great dream that I can't for the life of me recall, stretched, stopped stretching, stretched again, and reached my arms out to the sides of my bed to stretch a third time only to find a little body curled up next to me.

The second my hand touched him, Henry scrunched his face up and started moving. He wriggled his way on top of me, yawning until his nose crinkled, and then, apparently uncomfortable, burrowed underneath me. He clutched to my pyjama shirt and groaned unhappily when I rose to my knees. Somehow, I ended up on all fours with my little son curled into a little ball beneath me. I stifled a laugh as one hand reluctantly moved away from my shirt and clutched the blankets instead, dragging them over his head.

"Henry," I murmured. He groaned. "Henry."

"Wha?"

"It's time to get up."

"Mmno," he whispered, reaching a little hand up out of the sheets to find my face and pat it softly. "Sleepy."

"Henry," I said again. "We can do this the easy way, kid, or the hard way." That seemed to grab his attention and he pulled the blanket down so his eyes peeked up at me. "What's it gonna be, kid?"

"Does the easy way have candy?" I shook my head no. "Does the hard way have candy?" I shook my head again. "I don't wanna."

"Well, you gotta," I retorted, poking my son in the belly. "Come on. Shower, dress, breakfast, school."

He waited for a long time and stared up at me before he smiled. He lifted his arms and yelped happily when I sighed, rolled off the bed, and scooped him up into my arms.

"You know, kid, one day you're going to be too big for me to do this." He laughed when I dipped him low. His hand trailed on the carpet before I pulled him up.

"Again!" Down; up. Down; up. I had him so thoroughly entertained that he didn't even noticed that I'd brought us both into the shower. Quick as a flash, I deposited him in the tub, turned on the shower, and laughed at his squeal. "Mamma! You got my jammies all wet!"

I tried. I really did try not to laugh again but I opened my eyes and looked at my son all sopping wet, hair plastered to his forehead, with the most adorable little pouting scowl and I howled with laughter. "Oh kid." I reached out to ruffle his hair and he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the shower. It was my turn to yelp as the water cascaded over my shoulder. "Oh you're in _big_ trouble now mister." Cue water fight.

* * *

Henry got to school on time today and I managed to get into Granny's before the morning rush forced me to yell over the un-caffeinated hordes. I smiled at the waitress I was slowly coming to consider a friend. Well, someone I didn't hate, at the very least.

"Hey Emma!" She sashayed her way over. It didn't mean anything, the sashaying I mean. I think that's just the way she walks. "What can I get for you this morning? The usual?"

"Actually, can I have two bearclaws as well? And I need Michael's coffee and Graham's as well."

"Got it – four coffees and two bearclaws coming right up." She shoved a mug across the counter to me, topped with cream and cinnamon. At my no doubt shocked expression, she just smiled. "I saw you walking down the road. Thought you might like something." She shrugged and shook her head when I pulled out my wallet. "Nah, on the house." She paused in her coffee making and I hummed around the delicious liquid. I tilted my head to the side.

"What's up, Ruby?"

"Nothing." She shrugged. "Well, nothing's wrong. I was just wondering, I mean, if you want to tell me, who was that adorable kid you were walking to school?"

I froze for a moment. I relaxed very, very slowly as I watched her. Somehow, I don't know. It's hard to explain. I recognised her. Well, I recognised her behaviour. There was something in the way that she held herself, the lines of her body, and the careful but strangely challenging way she met my eyes. It was sort of like looking into a mirror. She was daring me to reject her, and nervous that I would be offended. I can't count the number of times I've felt just like that.

"His name is Henry," I offered. She nodded. The hard lines began to soften and the corners of her eyes crinkled in her immediate smile.

"He's so cute," she gushed.

I opened my mouth to say something. What? Thank you? "He's my son," I said instead, very quietly. It wasn't that I thought she would hurt me or Henry but I'd had a number of people do the thing. Lots of people. The thing where they gape or they press their lips closed together; they are shocked or they are not surprised because, really, what else would they expect from someone like me; they retreat or they come closer, closer; they judge me with their silent up-and-down looks or they bray with harsh laughter and snort knowingly as their eyes flicker down my body; they count my age; they count his age; they open the door and leave every time.

"I thought so," she said. "I mean, I could tell cause of the way he looked up at you." She leant her elbows on the bench and smiled at me. I could see it – the smile, I mean – even though I stared down, deep down, into my mug. Why wasn't she leaving? "Sorry," she murmured and retreated. I looked up quickly. What had I done?

"Ruby," I bit out quickly. She looked up. I shrugged. I didn't really have anything to say. I just didn't want her to be offended or think I didn't appreciate that she thought my kid was cute. "I, um, thanks." She smiled and I glanced down at the unexpected mug of cocoa. It gave me the courage to look up at her again. "I was thinking we could come in for pancakes? On Sunday?"

She beamed brightly and nodded, eager to meet Henry. I mean, who wouldn't be? Kid was cute. And then she handed me my coffees and that was all. For the moment, I suppose. But it wasn't. Not really. I had left the diner, yes, and I had left Ruby behind couped up in her little accepted prison of waiting and serving and smiling but, somehow, she had followed me out here as well into the air and the sunshine. Her voice was in my head, her bright eyes, her questions. And it brought me down.

I thought a walk might do me good and I actually felt marginally better when, a couple of minutes later, I burst into the sheriff's office. Still not quite as amazing as I'd felt this morning when Henry had tackled me almost to the ground to say goodbye. But maybe Graham's cheery face would perk me right up again.

"Graham!" I called out. "I brought you coffee. Also, I'm going shopping later because you've run out of food and I can't rock the hungry look – mac and cheese sound all right for dinner?"

"Perfect. Why are you yelling?"

"Because the louder I yell, I more I love," I told him, distracted. At his confused 'what?' I laughed. "Henry told me that a little while ago. I'd lost him at the shopping mall and god, I must have yelled at him for an hour." Guilt suffused me for a second. "But Henry told me, you know, after I stopped crying, that it was okay because if I yell at him really loudly it's because I love him too much for him to get hurt."

"Huh. Makes sense I guess."

"You guess correctly," I said as I moved into his office, leaving the box of bearclaws and the coffee on my desk. I started rifling through his papers.

"Do you want to maybe ask me before you go through my papers? So I can tell you where whatever you're looking for is?"

"Nah it's fine. I'm just looking to see if you need anything signed by the Mayor. Do you?" I looked up from the papers to see Graham looking at me with a carefully blank expression.

Oh no. I knew what that look meant. It meant that he wanted to talk to me about something and if he didn't go about it in exactly the right way I was probably going to injure him.

"What?" He said nothing. "Graham, _what_?"

"It's nothing." Okay. Looks like he's not quite sure how to say it yet.

"It's not nothing. You're giving me that look."

"What look?"

"That thing your face does when you try not to upset me. It makes you look gassy, Graham."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," he said dryly and rolled his eyes.

"Okay good. Now tell me why you look gassy." He remained stubbornly quiet. "Gray, I'm more mellow than last time you did this stupid should-I-tell-her-should-I-not. I mean, since we lived together I've become a lot less vindictive."

"How do I know that this isn't some kind of trick?"

"I have a five-year-old who pouts at me when I'm slightly mad. It's hard to be cruel when he uses that pout against you."

"I'm not convinced." He crossed his arms like a petulant child and lent back against the filing cabinet. I sighed, only slightly aggravated.

"Tell me Graham or don't but I gotta go and meet up with the mayor." _There_. There it was. If I hadn't been watching him so carefully I would have missed it. A brief shadow crossed his face at the mention of Regina. "That's what's wrong? The mayor?"

"How did you –?" He cut himself off, remembering how good I'd always been at reading people. Well, not always. Just after a few of the more unsavoury foster homes.

"Something you want to say, Graham?" I asked him gently, though I wanted to be a little cranky because he was wasting my time, because he is my best friend and so far he's always had the best of intentions at heart.

"I just…" he sighed, defeated. "I don't want you to rush into anything."

"Ah. No, you don't want me to rush into anything with Regina. If it were David or Ruby or Michael you wouldn't have a problem with it." I folded my arms and lowered my eyebrows, demanding answers.

Graham scrunched up his nose a little. "Well, actually, David's married so—"

"Graham!"

"Okay, fine. Yes. It's because it's Regina. But I look at you and I see what you're doing and I'm worried."

"It's just paperwork," I said. But we both knew that it wasn't. We both knew that paperwork led to other stuff. Like talking. Like seeing the other person. "I want a friend, Graham. I'm so sick of having no one to talk to. And, I mean, yeah I know it's my fault but it still sucks. I just want to change that."

"You have me," he offered, tilting his head to the side. I think it's adorable when he does that. He's like a little puppy. (Speaking of, Puppy is doing very well. Graham took to him instantly and he has a little kennel inside the house.)

I shook my head. "I want a girl to talk to. It's different. You're like a brother and I love you but there are some things that I don't want to talk to you about." We smiled and I felt a rush of success. I had kept our conversation light-hearted, even though I could feel the weight that pulled at the edges of Graham's words.

"Is that all Regina is to you?" I hesitated and Graham shook his head, pushing up and away from the filing cabinet. "Emma,"

"No, okay? I like her. I feel like an idiot around her and when I look at her sometimes, most of the time, my brain goes a little fuzzy. But if it's all the same with you, I'd kind of like to figure out what she is to me by myself, okay?"

His eyes were crinkled. Not in the good way. "Emma." No. _No_. There was that warning tone. I dropped the papers onto the desk and slammed my hands onto the tabletop.

"Stop it, Graham! Why can't you be happy for me? Why can't you be happy that I've found someone that I'm not immediately wary of, scared of? Someone who makes me nervous in a good way. Someone who, who," I began to pace. "She's, I don't know Graham. She's funny."

"I just want you to be careful."

"No, you want me to lock my heart in a box and never let it out."

"Can you blame me?" he snapped. "After what happened last time?"

"Don't."

"I am _scared_."

I glared at him and strode across the room so that I could shove him. Lightly, but I did. I didn't let myself feel guilty about it and I didn't let myself ignore the words – unplanned, uncensored – that I wanted to say.

"You? Scared? Why do you get to be scared?" Shove. "It's not your heart, Graham, and it's not your body." Another shove. "It's not _you_ waking up in the middle of the night and it's not _you_ having to be careful about who you talk to. I don't get to be scared so you have no right—"

"_I have every right_," he shouted. "I have every right to be scared for you. You don't even understand, Emma." He pushed me back. Not with his hands, just…stood taller. Over me. I stepped back a little and his face fell, stained with, with something. Pain, I supposed in some small corner of my mind, the rest of me overrun with righteous denial. "You think you are so guarded, so strong. You come into people's lives like a whirlwind and you barely let anything settle before you're gone again. But you can't be strong all the time. And now that you have Henry you can't run anymore. And I," he said, stepping forward but not touching me, "I am _scared_ because your walls don't protect you from people that bulldoze their way in." Like Regina, my mind supplied. Like _him_. "And I'm scared," he continued more quietly, "because I remember what happened last time. I was there last time."

I nodded. I remembered. "I know."

"Emma." He reached out to take my hand but I shifted away. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"I know." I offered him a small smile. 'But that's not up to you, Gray. I like Regina. I think you have the wrong idea about her. She's not evil, just lonely. And I refuse to stop enjoying myself because of him. I won't let him ruin my life."

"I'm sorry." Perhaps he was suddenly attuned to my anger, quiet and seething as it was, because he was watching me warily. "But she's not just lonely, Emma. She's mean too."

"So what? I'm mean and lonely and you're not going out of your way to warn people away from me."

"That's different."

"How? Because I'm your weak little sister? Because you're scared of the mayor? Because what?"

"You're not weak, Emma. You're the strongest and the best person I know. "

I sighed and sat against the edge of the desk. "Then let me move on. I'm tired of being reminded of him and it was nice to just let things be. You know, with Regina."

"With Regina. Right. Look, Emma, I really think that you need to start thinking about Henry here." I frowned at the sudden change in topic. Why the hell bring up my son?

"Henry is the first person I think about. Everyday. When I wake up, when I go to sleep. Every second of every day."

"And what – you think he's going to be okay with this?"

"With what? He wouldn't begrudge me happiness."

"And when you get your heartbroken by the bitch?" All of his anger was back again. "What happens when Henry is confused and sad because you're sitting around and crying? What then?"

"Then I will do what I have _always_ done. I will make sure that my son is safe and happy."

"It's going to hurt him. You're being selfish, Emma."

Selfish. I felt my muscles tense at the accusation and breathed out very slowly. "I have a son and he means more to me than anything else but that doesn't mean that I don't get to be a person too."

I stood, snatching the papers off the desk behind me. I started marching out of the office when I stopped and turned. Graham paused, looking a little fearful, and waited for me to speak. "Don't you ever accuse me of being selfish ever again." He nodded. "And if you ever bring _him_ up again, I will shoot you in the leg. Understood?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good. I'm going to take these to Regina. I'll see you tonight."

* * *

So apparently a day can go from amazing to relatively atrocious in under two hours. Who would have guessed it? I walked slowly to the Mayor's office, hopeful that the exercise and the sunshine would perk me right up like it had from Granny's to my office. It didn't. I knew it wouldn't – the day was too far gone down the drain for that – but a girl can hope, right? Right.

The second I walked through the door, I knew I looked terrible. Michael pressed his lips together, obviously not wanting to offend me, but his eyes roamed over my face and he made a sympathetic, mildly pitying, smile.

"Hey Emma. How are you today?"

"Peachy," I grunted and handed him his coffee. "It's cold. You'll have to nuke it. Sorry." For some reason—the reason probably being my face—he just nodded and took the cup with a smile.

I jerked my thumb toward Regina's door and he held up his index finger – one moment. I waited.

"Madame Mayor, you have a visitor."

"Send the deputy in, please, Michael."

"Yes ma'am."

I frowned. "What's that all about? You've never done that before."

"Mayor Mills said that ever since her office was, er, vandalised, certain people weren't to be trusted in her office unless they had her express say so." He shrugged. "I have to check with her now."

"Huh. Okay." And then I pushed my way into her office. I stopped only a single pace into the room and sucked in a deep breath. I was off my game. I mean, I already felt low and lousy from this stellar (sarcasm) morning. I wasn't sure that looking at Regina wouldn't make me collapse or something equally embarrassing, just to complete my day. So I kept my eyes on the floor and shuffled my way to the large table to the left where she was sitting.

"Good morning, ma'am," I greeted her politely.

She paused before answering. "Good morning, deputy." She gestured to the seat opposite her and I slid into it, placing the box of pastries to the side. I looked at the papers I had brought. Then at the box. Then at my papers. I shoved the box a little towards Regina.

"Uh, these are for you. Because I said I'd bring them." I bit my tongue before I could say anything more, knowing if I did I was likely to embarrass myself.

She reached out slowly and lifted the lid. Closed it again. "Thank you. That is…kind of you." Yeah right. As if. My morose thoughts continued along that path. More like childish and immature. It was stupid. I tamped down that little negative voice and also my hunger and focused on the little dancing spots of ink on the page that had the audacity to call themselves letters.

She must have been watching me closely, I supposed. Because, you see, it took me a long time to relax. My shoulders did finally relax from their stiff position, I lost some of the grinding tension in my jaw, and the pressure across my forehead slowly dissipated. And it was in that exact moment that the pounding behind my eyes lessened to a manageable level that Regina spoke.

"Are you quite all right, deputy?"

I glanced up and lost myself in her stunning coffee eyes, distracted by the handsome slope of her jaw. Then: _Be careful, Emma_. Graham's voice. Clear as any of my own thoughts in my head. And I blinked my distraction away, eyes cutting down again to the table.

I managed to smile at the papers. "Just fine, thank you ma'am." The silence that followed was itchy and her voice, when she spoke, was disbelieving.

"I see."

I glanced up and smiled again. "Just tired." She nodded to her own papers but I caught her disbelief. I let it go. Nothing I could do about it – except, you know, telling her the entirety of my messed up past. And that's nothing I wanted to talk about especially with Regina.

The scratching of her beautiful pen kept me company for the next however long. That and the occasional glance over at Regina, making sure she was still, well, her and not this monster Graham seemed to see. We only paused when my stomach began to grumble embarrassingly loudly. I jumped up and was halfway to the door when she spoke.

"Where are you going?"

"To, um. To food," I mumbled.

"To food," she repeated. "Interesting. But I believe that I am in possession of…now how did you say it? God's pastry creation? The greatest food that exists?"

"The delicious pastry that God fashioned," I said.

"Ah yes. Thank you."

"Anyway, I got them for you. My poor deprived mayor," I joked, feeling a little of my previous weightlessness return, the heaviness in my heart stripped away somewhat by her interest.

"I assure you that I have no desire to eat both of these pastries, no matter how delicious. Please," she gestured to my seat again, urging me to return. "Sit."

She took her time examining the pastries before taking the one closest to her. Her fingers wrapped about it daintily and she lifted it to her mouth with all the elegance in the world. I shifted, uncomfortable. I know I looked like a pig with my table manners. I almost didn't want to take one but she offered and I was hungry and, well, you know. It's a bearclaw. I took a cautious bite, taking care not to spill crumbs. I was far out of my league here.

So focused was I on not looking like a pig, I almost missed the surprised sound Regina made when she tasted the bearclaw and the way she closed her eyes to savour the taste.

"God, get a room you two," I teased. Her eyes snapped open and I almost regretted teasing her. Almost, because she smiled a little and I know that she didn't mind. Plus, I got to see those beautiful eyes of hers.

"Are you on call, deputy?" she asked me, glancing at my phone that I'd laid on the table.

"Sort of," I managed after chewing and swallowing. I flushed a little under her scrutiny. I didn't really want to tell her that I needed two jobs.

"Would it not be more prudent of you to return to the office? Perhaps the sheriff has other work for you."

I blinked at her. Then smiled and shook my head. "It's my day off so Graham will call me if he needs me desperately. I'm just waiting for a text." I frowned when a thought crossed my mind. "I can go, though, if you want. I mean, if that was a dismissal. I'm sorry if I'm distracting you, I didn't really think about it because I was kind of enjoying this but I'm really sorry if I was a bother. I should have just left the bearclaws and gone. I'm sorry—"

"Deputy Swan," she cut off my ramblings with her cool, calm voice. "It was not a dismissal. I was merely concerned that you were neglecting your work." I suddenly felt stupid – not a foreign concept by away stretch of the imagination – and the back of my neck itched with a blush. "Would you care to sit again, deputy?"

I looked down at the awkward handful of papers and precarious clutching of coffee that I had scooped up at some point in my stupid rant and settled everything on the table. I sat.

**I'm sorry it took so long. I've been so busy with university and ugh – just, you know, all the things. I have most of the next two chapters planned out so hopefully they won't take so long. I hope you liked it. Please let me know with reviews. I love reviews. Follow me on tumblr? My url is elizadownunder. Happy reading, readers :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Eight**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time. **

**Please enjoy. Oh – I am not a handyman, nor am I a plumber. I know exactly nothing about plumbing or construction. But I happily took creative license without an iota of research on the topic and thus you are presented with this chapter. Have fun. And if you really have to tell me that I know nothing about plumbing or handiwork et cetera (which I do not) I love reviews. **

Goddamn shit. What the hell? I scrunched my nose furiously and sighed. Tapped the paper I was glaring at. What the hell is another word for commotion? I tapped the paper again and a pen touched my hand. The shock of contact rippled up my arm and kept me still. I moved my eyes over the smooth hand clasping the pen, up the arm, the neck—I jerked my eyes away. _Bad Emma_, I told myself. _No_. I refocused on the crossword.

"Would you care to have lunch now, Deputy Swan?" Her voice broke through my distraction and I looked up from the newspaper I'd borrowed from Michael. My eyes drifted to the clock high on the wall behind her, which read 12:34, and I blinked. Jesus. I'd been here for ages. And Regina just let me sit here? I wonder what she'd thought of me sitting here. Was I stupid in her eyes? Obsessed? Crazy? What had I been doing? I know that I'm fond of sticking out my tongue a little when I'm thinking. Henry thought it was funny but did Regina think it was weird?

"Miss Swan?" I blinked again and looked over at her. Her paperwork was neatly stacked to the side, her pen perfectly placed parallel to the top of the papers, and her hands - beautiful hands - were folded carefully on the table.

"Huh?" Oh yeah, real nice Emma. Good job. Super good job with the talking.

Regina just smirked. Could she...did she...maybe think that was funny and not stupid like it actually was? "Eloquent, dear. I asked whether you would care to have lunch now."

"Oh." Surprise – an invitation! I gaped a little before I quickly shut my mouth. I really, really did want to go to lunch with her. I mean, other than the whole 'I have terrible table manners' thing, lunch is a time to ask questions that can't be asked over paperwork. Like mildly sleazy sideways looks and 'are you sure your boyfriend is okay with me taking you to lunch' kind of questions. Which is fun. And good. But trust me – if paperwork is the gateway to bad things, lunch is the gateway to worse things. Like making a complete and utter fool of myself. Plus, I couldn't quite shake Graham's mistrustful behaviour and his certainty of Regina's evilness. And he'd reminded me that this swooping, unsteady feeling I get around her wasn't necessarily a good thing. Point one to Graham – he'd successfully given me back my nerves and fear of any attachment, relationship, or person in abundance.

The overwhelming urge to protect myself rose up suddenly. It shook me. I pulled my hands back towards me, abandoning my crossword and pen, and smiled faintly. My thoughts swirled, mimicking my stomach. Hold back, I reminded myself. I mean, you would hope that my history would teach me something. And it has. And that is to withhold. Don't get over-attached. Be careful. Tread carefully. Everything could be a trap. You will get hurt.

God. I just wanted to go home and curl up in my blankets and not come out until I knew I was safe.

"I shouldn't," I said. I offered her a half-smile to counteract my negative answer. I fiddled with my phone for a minute and shrugged. "I mean, I still have some work to do and, well, I just, um, errands and stuff." I shrugged and smiled again but this time it was down at my phone. God, I sound like a stuttering fool.

"I see." Her voice was quiet and, when I looked up, her eyes were downcast. My stomach lurched again and I rushed to make her smile. I began to stutter more impressively.

"But, um, I think that maybe, you know,"

"Do try to speak properly, deputy. I'd rather not feel as if I'm speaking with an imbecile." Suddenly her voice was icy. Not quiet, no sign of any hurt I thought I had identified for a brief moment – just cool disdain. My heart plummeted until I swore I could feel it thrumming against my stomach. I felt queasy. The dark voice made me clench my fists.

"Right." I rocked back into my chair, away from her. "Sorry." I ran a hand through my hair and searched for something, anything, that could salvage the morning. It had been nice, right?

"If all you intend to do is gape, deputy, feel free to do that on your own time and in your own space. Outside my office." I didn't move. "That was a dismissal, dear. Close the door on your way out."

"Did I do something wrong?" I said slowly, trying to make sure that I didn't stumble over my words. Clearly she didn't like it. I raised my head and make tentative eye contact, widening my eyes to convey what little I could. Confusion, for one, and sincerity. _Did_ I do something wrong? She just looked back at me and I shivered. Her gaze was practically glacial and I couldn't fathom how the cool calm collected mayor had changed so quickly into this icy dragon lady. But all her transformation did was let the little voice in my head I reluctantly labelled 'Graham' crow with victory – _I told you_, it said, _she's dangerous_.

"Certainly not," she stated. She pulled her stack of paperwork back in front of her. "I do, however, have plenty of work to do and have no more time to pander to you. See yourself out." She tucked herself neatly over the files and began to write. I stared at her, now sure, absolutely certain, that I'd done something wrong.

"I'm sorry," I offered.

"I am uncertain to what you are referring, deputy, though if you insist on remaining I will accept one on behalf of your disturbing my day." She glanced up from her paperwork and moved her eyes quite obviously to the door. "You may leave now." And then she looked down at her desk, picked up her pen, and didn't even bother to pretend to work. She just looked down at them. Her neck and back were stiff. She was ignoring me.

I felt my own back tense in response. I don't _like_ being ignored. Still, I know that I saw her hurt even if it was just for a second. So instead of snapping I forced myself to relax. "I'm sorry," I said again. "Have a good day, Madame Mayor." She didn't respond. I closed the door gently behind me and sighed again.

"Emma?" Michael frowned over at me from his desk. "Is everything alright?"

I opened my mouth. Shook my head. "I don't know." Gave him a weak smile. Everything was rushing all around me and I couldn't quite figure out what I'd done wrong. "She might be tapping her foot again."

"Oh Emma." Michael's face fell. "What did you do?"

"I don't know." He didn't look convinced and I shoved away from Regina's office door, stamped towards him. "I don't know, okay?" My sad face must have convinced him because he nodded and shook his head. "Help me make it up to her?"

"How?"

* * *

My phone was ringing obnoxiously. I closed my eyes. I swear, if it's Graham calling me again for the sixtieth time I am seriously going to break it. I slid it out of the holster and sighed with relief. Leroy.

"Hey. What's up?"

"I need your help." His voice was exhausted and I nodded immediately. "The construction site on Belle Circuit is flooding. Plus, the story the other night was a doozy. Really did a number on the site. Couple of trees fell. You still free?" I bit my lip at the question. I needed the money Leroy could offer but at the same time I really wanted to make things right with Regina. No idea how but, ah forget it. I needed the money.

I stood and grabbed my jacket. "Yeah. Yeah of course. I'll be there in fifteen." The construction site was an easy ten minute walk away and I took the spare five minutes to message Graham – _not_ call him because I know how that would end – and Mary Margaret that I was working with Leroy, just in case I was late picking up Henry from after school care.

Leroy jerked his head in a nod when I knocked, waving me in. "Hey."

"Hey." I looked around. "Everything seems fine."

"Here it does," he snorted. "You can leave your stuff here. Got anything important," he waved at a locked box, "you can put it in the box." He raised his brows. "Need it?"

"Yeah. I need to keep my work phone but I've got my wallet and some jewellery." I pulled my necklace over my head, knowing from past work that stuff like that gets in the way, and palmed my wallet.

Leroy snorted again. "Fancy bling, Deputy Sheriff Swan."

"Oh shut up." I shook them at him. "Unlock the box, Leroy."

My things safely stored, he took me out the back and I whistled at the damage. Two big trees had collapsed on the half-built extension of the house and the framework had splintered underneath them. "That'll take all week to clean up, Leroy."

"Don't I know it," he grunted. "And all I got are trainees that don't know a spanner from a hammer." I watched as he shook his head mournfully. Alas, the heartache of a tradesman surrounded by fools. "You ever done any pipe work?"

"Here and there. Nothing formal."

"I don't need formal." He jerked his head and stumped into the house. I followed him and gaped at the sight of the kitchen. It was flooding. The water was ankle deep and climbing.

"Holy shit. What the hell, Leroy? You didn't turn off the main?"

"Couldn't. It was busted. Warped somehow. Wouldn't turn off."

"Crap. Warped?" I looked to him for confirmation. He nodded. "Okay." I pointed to an open cupboard where pipes were obvious, and obviously leaking, and nodded. "That the main?"

"Yeah."

"I got this." He looked at me with wide eyes.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I got this." Leroy face brightened, in so much as his craggy face could, and he nodded.

"Alright then. Tools are on the bench." The second he left, I stepped into the kitchen. Then I swore in my head because I realised I was wearing my best boots and they were now thoroughly soaked. Probably ruined. Ah well.

Three hours later, still kneeling in four, maybe five, inches of water, I'm exhausted and cranky. I'd turned off the water main – at the expense of my clothes, now thoroughly soaked - and had replaced the warped pipe. Just to be on the safe side, I'd checked all of the soldering and the valves. I was mid-way through replacing the ninth warped pipe (this place really needed to find a better supplier, obviously) when a familiar voice interrupted me. One I was neither prepared for nor interested in hearing.

"Emma."

I scowled at the pipe, which I now firmly believed was the source of all my worldly problems, and begin to solder it in place. "What?"

"Emma, come on. Look at me." Pleading now.

"No."

"You're being childish."

I tensed at the accusation. As if he hadn't said enough hurtful things today. Now he wanted to be mean about the fact that I was hurt at all? Great. Wonderful. Just what I needed. I stood from my stooped position and sets the tool on the side. I still didn't turn but wrapped my fingers around a spare pipe, checking it for any wear-and-tear, any damage. "So now I'm childish _and_ selfish,_"_ I said mildly. "How nice." I tried not to let any hurt out into my voice but can't be sure if I succeeded. Every part of me was on the edge, tingling with nerves. Confrontation is bad - more so when it is with one of your only friends.

"That's not what I meant."

"Well Graham, at the moment I don't really care what you meant," I said. Snapped, really. I hunched my shoulders and told myself not to turn. Not to look at him.

"Just look at me. Please."

So I did. I turned to face him and hardened my heart, hoping that his puppy-dog eyes and hapless expression wouldn't destroy my resolve. It didn't. It just kind of annoyed me. I felt relief, followed by a wave of guilt, that I wasn't about to just back down.

"Look I get that you're upset. But I'm upset with you. You don't get to judge me and you sure as hell don't get to bring up my past whenever you feel like it or when you want to make a point. It's out of bounds. Got it?" He nodded. "Good. Now go away."

"But I came here because-"

"You want to apologise." He nodded again. "Fine. That's great." I snorted because, well, it isn't really. I'm not interested in hearing an apology. I'm not interested in letting him apologise to me so that he feels better because it's certainly not going to make me feel any better. "But go away because I'm tired and wet and I'm really not in any mood to be forgiving. You've got a better chance if you catch me at home tonight."

"Promise you'll listen to me?"

"No. But it's more likely if I'm not freezing."

"Right." He stuck his hands in his pockets. I looked at him closely. That action...I do it all the time. Did I copy that from him when we were young? Or did he copy it from me? Or did we both adopt it from someone else when we'd run about this town like the young idiots we were? Whatever it was, it shocked me into remembering that we shared that. We shared a lot of things; a past, for one. And his soft eyes and repentant face told me that, yes, I would forgive him because that is what family does. They yell hurtful things they don't mean and then they forgive each other. Because it's sure as hell better than slogging it out alone. And at least they're still there.

Family, however, also accepts it when you're head over heels for even the most unlikely person. Supports you, holds your hand if you get your heartbroken. And that, I assured myself, is what I would remind him of tonight.

"Look, I'll see you later okay?" I let my voice relax, and my body, and he smiled tentatively at me.

"Yeah," he said as he backed out, giving me the space I demanded. "See you later." The words echoed over the water and I shook my head vigorously. This whole 'family' thing was strange and almost unnatural for me but I thought I was doing alright. I mean, family beyond myself and Henry.

"Swan," another voice called. I turned to Leroy. "You done with the pipe?"

"You mean 'pipes' right?" He shrugged. "Yeah. Just got some soldering left. Why?"

"Finish it up, would you? I need some help with the extension." I nodded. "Did you not want the sheriff here?" He asked after a moment.

I grunted a non-reply and dropped to the ground, grumbling when I splashed myself. God it was cold. "It's fine." I stopped. Looked up at him. "You told him where I was." Not a question. His shifting eyes confirmed it for me.

"He called me and asked where we were." Leroy shrugged. "He's the sheriff." He allowed me silence while I finished working with the pipe and, after one last check over the rest of the pipes and an almighty heave as I tightened a minor valve, he spoke again. "So what was that all about?"

"It's nothing."

"You sure?" He packed up the toolbox for me and hefted it into his arms, leading the way to his work place. "'Cause I don't want you to be distracted here. Dangerous, you know, not to have your mind on the job."

"I'm fine," I reassured him.

"Sounded to me like you were upset." He fixed me with dark eyes and I scowled at him.

"It's none of your business."

"Fine. But I'd rather you talk to me than nail your hand onto something." He shrugged. "I've not got enough insurance to cover you."

I smirked at that - typical - and nodded. But the silence continued as he pulled out lunch and handed me a sandwich. His eyes didn't move from my face. I didn't look at him but I could feel him watching. I pulled out my phone. Eleven missed calls from Graham. One text. Nothing important. My nervous jitters started when Leroy began slurping down a juice. He wasn't speaking and there was no one else there and the emptiness around the meaningless sound of drinking was giving me heart palpitations. The thoughts inside of me bubbled up and then over and I sighed. He smiled and I rolled my eyes, knowing that whatever his plan had been it had worked. I was ready to talk.

"He's just worried about me."

And clearly, whatever Leroy had been expecting, well. That wasn't it. His face scrunched up and I wondered at the malleability of it. I didn't know wrinkles could scrunch like that. "You're a big girl, Swan. You can look after yourself."

I smiled slightly. "True."

"Well, what is he worried about then? Something you can't handle?" He was leaning in. I would have smiled at this, finding out that Leroy is just a big gossip, except for the undeniable and uncomfortable fact that it was my life he was interested in. Still, I answered him. I'm not sure if it was because I was trying to get on his good side and give him just enough information that he left me alone or because I just really wanted to talk it out with someone.

"Regina."

"The mayor?" His eyebrows shot up and then he frowned a little. "What's he worried about her for?"

"Because I think she's cool. And I wanted to be friends with her." I blushed heavily and he grinned, eyebrows waggling.

"And maybe more?"

"And maybe more," I agreed. I looked down at my toolbox where Leroy was resting his feet.

"So what's wrong with that?"

"Well maybe you are happily open-minded about her but Graham seems to think that she's evil. But not to worry, Graham," I laughed sadly. "Because my normal ineptitude with people has returned. As per usual, Emma Swan messed up." I rubbed a hand over my face – forgetting, as I do, that it was dirty – and groaned. "I did something stupid and now she hates me."

"What did you do?"

"I don't know." I remembered her cool mask, Michael's frown, and now Leroy's confused face. "I really don't."

"Then how do you know that she wasn't just being a bitch?"

I ignored his matter-of-fact question and leapt on the insult. I bared my teeth a little. "Because she isn't." I jumped to my feet and grabbed the toolbox, striding purposefully over to the damaged area. I grabbed a piece of splintered beam and moved it with the stiff efficiency on someone who doesn't want to be there.

"Whoa, whoa." Leroy followed me with his own box. He stood away from me but held his hands up in surrender. "Chill, Swan. It was just a question. 'Sides, she must either be a bitch or a fool to not want to be friends with you. I mean, you're alright sister. And I don't say that about everyone." He looked away as he said it. I looked away when he said it. Compliments aren't supposed to be given or received when looking at either the giver or receiver. Not when you are me. Or, apparently, Leroy. Emotions have no place here.

"You're just saying that because I saved your ass here." I lightened my own tension with a joke. Leroy seemed to appreciate it and smiled.

"True. So?" He elbowed me and then moved away, both to give me space and to examine the crushed wood to see if it was salvageable. "What happened?"

"I've no idea. I thought everything was going fine and then she went all ice queen on me and threw me out of her office. Maybe she just got sick of me." I held up a beam and he looked over it before nodding. I threw it in the 'keep' pile.

"What happened before that?"

"Hmm?"

"Before she threw you out. Did she get a phone call or something? Maybe it was someone else."

"I appreciate that but it was me. Not phone call, no e-mail, no meeting. Nothing like that." I cast my memory back, trying to recall if there was one thing – one single thing – that happened. "We were talking and I was doing a crossword and she invited me to lunch. Nothing weird happened."

"Did you say yes?"

"What?"

"To lunch. Did you say yes?"

"Well, no."

"So you rejected her." He nodded and spread his arms as if to say 'well there you go.'

"Hold on for a second! I did not reject her. I mean, yeah, _technically_ I did but not really. I wanted to go to lunch just not today and I tried to tell her that but she kicked me out and-"

"Emma. Did you say no?"

"Well…yes."

"And did you tell her why? Like, did you have a really good reason?"

"Well…no."

"So she thinks you rejected her. Easy as that." He whistled through his teeth. "Sounds to me like she made an effort to be your friend and you said no for no good reason. Not exactly a great way to start a friendship now is it?"

"I wanted to be free in case you needed me!"

"But you didn't tell her that, did you?"

"Yeah, of course I did," I said sarcastically. "Because I really want her – Madame Mayor, Miss Perfect Hair and perfect everything and with a super job and rich family and huge mansion – to know that I need not one, not two, but _three_ jobs to support me and my son. I don't want her to look down on me more than she already does because I'm a stuttering idiotic mess!"

"Whoa." Leroy stepped towards me, despite my red-faced anger, and grabbed my arms. Brave man. "Chill, sister. I'm just saying that, you know, to her she might just think that anything would have been better than having lunch with her. Even doing nothing." He shrugged. "I didn't mean to get up your grill or anything. Just giving you another way to look at it." He looked to the ground. Grabbed a beam. Purposefully didn't look at me.

I felt like commanding the ground to open up and swallowing me whole. Not to mention – oh my god – the fact that I had just told this near-stranger, albeit a nice one, that I had a son. And three jobs. Great. Now another person to pity me and think I'm a mess. Fabulous.

"So relax. Your life is your business." He stepped away and calmly returned to his work. After a few moments of deep breathing I continued to help him.

"How come you know so much about this? Like what she might have thought?"

"Got plenty of wisdom. Comes with age," he winked and grinned toothily. We left it at that, until he shook his head. "Nah. You've been honest with me. Believe it or not – I ain't got a whole lot of friends. Used to. Lost a lot of them doing stupid things." He grunted and lifted a large beam, taking it to the discard pile. With a clap of his gloved hands and a shrug, he conveyed our discussion over. I shrugged and nodded back to him. Then I clapped him on the shoulder, our work done.

"Thanks Leroy."

"No problem. You go and fix that problem with the mayor and maybe I'll ask you to help me out next week."

"Oh please. You wouldn't survive without me. I saw the work your trainees did on that other room – they are _green_."

"Yeah." He sighed, thoroughly disappointed in them.

"Hey Leroy?"

"What?"

"How come you're the only one that doesn't think Regina is a bitch? Or evil?"

He stopped packing up for a moment to look at me.

"I get enough comments like that thrown at me, you know? Once upon a time, I probably would've thrown 'em back but," he looked away. "Things change. People change. One good thing or person, one chance. That can change a life, you know. Maybe she just hasn't had her chance yet."

"Mm," I hummed, leaving it at that. A non-commital sound of agreement that undermined the sudden lurching in my chest that screamed 'yes! I completely agree with you!' "Do you," I bit my lip. I was suddenly quite sure that we didn't know each other nearly enough for me to ask this question. But I asked anyway because what is friendship except a continuous leap of faith? Questions that shouldn't be asked and honesty returned in spades. At least, that's what I think. "What is your good thing?"

And he wasn't offended. Instead, he grinned at me more widely than I'd seen him grin and pulled his wallet out. Flipping it open, he showed me a photo of a sweet-looking lady. It was strange to see the pair, Leroy and the woman, side-by-side. It wasn't what I expected but despite the size difference and the juxtaposing of the gruff, rough man and the delicate woman didn't matter. Not when their smiles, wide and happy, matched perfectly.

"Astrid," he said, smiling fondly down at the picture. His thumb swiped across the image just once. "My fiancée."

"Lucky girl," I said, nudging his shoulder with mine.

"Ha!" he barked. He shook his head warmly and slipped the photo and his wallet into his back pocket. "Lucky guy, more like. Don't know why she loves me, don't really care. I'm just going to love her for the rest of my life." He shook his head again, but rueful. Considering. "Probably make plenty of mistakes while I'm at it but we'll fix it. Wouldn't have it any other way."

I nodded but turned away from him. It wasn't that I didn't believe him – I did. And it wasn't that I thought he shouldn't be happy – I did, very much. It was just that the sincerity and the burning happiness, the easy way he could promise his love forever and actually mean it, well. Something like that made me uncomfortable. Sad, too.

"See you 'round, Emma." He waved goodbye as we escaped the site. I glanced at my watch and knew I had a little time before I had to collect Henry. A thought occurred to me.

"Yeah. See you 'round."

* * *

As my idea played out in my mind, I forgot that I was soaked. I remembered – was reminded, more accurately – when I was standing opposite Michael and he forbade me from moving father into his office. He brought me a towel from god knows where and demanded that I stand on it.

"Can't I wrap it around me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're dripping on my floor and you shouldn't be."

"But I'm _cold_," I whined. "And wet."

"Obviously. You should have thought about that before you did," he looked me up and down, appearing quite stumped as to whatever I had been doing. "Whatever you've been doing. You're filthy, Emma." A grunt was my only response. "And where is my coffee?"

"Mate, if I had coffee don't you think I would be drinking it? It's bloody freezing." Michael didn't look impressed. The only thing he looked was increasingly agitated by the towel that was slowly becoming quite soaked beneath me. "Can I see Regina now?" He frowned at my familiar use of her name. Apparently I was majorly in the doghouse if I wasn't allowed to use her name. "Can I please see the _mayor_, then. Please?"

"No." He turned away from me and settled behind his desk. "She doesn't want to deal with you. At all. All further communications from the sheriff's office are to come directly from the sheriff and through no other channel," he said to me as if reading a quote from a book. More likely, Regina's words verbatim.

"You've got to be kidding."

"I'm not. The mayor was very particular about this." No sympathy.

"Michael, come on. I've got to talk to her about this." Even as I said the words, a small part of me asked why. Why do I need to fight so hard over this? Why do I _need_ anything to do with her? I've lost friends before. I've lost relationships. Run away from them, broken them off, destroyed them. I've never needed anything.

"I can't help you."

I managed a stiff nod. "Fine." It wasn't his fault. I laughed a little and shook my head. Hell, it was my fault. "Can you just, I don't know, tell her that I'm sorry and that I'll make it up to her?"

"She's very resolute."

I lent into him and grinned widely. Nigh on violently. "And I'm very stubborn."

He was struck dumb for all of three seconds before he regained his sassy disposition. "Do you want me to tell her how pitiful you look?"

"If you think it'll help my case, why not?" I shook my head again, not believing what was going on. Never had I ever been a pursuer. I'd always just gone with the flow or else run as hard and fast away as I possibly could. Guess there's a first time for everything though.

"Hey Michael, one last thing – when does she normally take lunch?"

"I can't condone you stalking her."

"What? No! I'm not—"

"Relax. That was a joke."

"Oh." I did relax. Then I pouted. Mean. "So…lunch?"

"Around one. Sometimes as early as twelve."

"Okay." I nodded. I could work with that. "And do you have a fridge here?"

"Yes?" He frowned now, a little bit, unsure as to where I was going with this.

"Great. Awesome. I'll leave now." I looked down at the towel, now thoroughly soaked with the brown substance unrecognisable as muddy water, and winced. "I, um, I hope that your fancy carpet is okay."

And, when he bemoaned the fate of his carpet loudly, I sprinted out of there as fast as my squelching boots would allow. I only slowed to a walk as I neared Henry's school, hoping that the sun would dry me out.

**Okay I hope you enjoyed this. I'm not too happy about it but I don't hate it and it is necessary. Also, I promise you there is a meeting between two of my favourite characters coming up in one of the following chapters. I think number ten. I hope you'll really enjoy it. I'd love to hear from you here (I honestly love reviews and I read them all and love to know what you'd like to see happen) or on tumblr (elizadownunder is my name). Thanks so much for reading. And I'm sorry it was late. Sorry. Happy reading, readers :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Nine**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time. **

**Please enjoy. **

**Oh and I would like to acknowledge my new beta and all-time best friend. She goes by pirateofpenzance and she is perfect. **

It was dinner time and all I wanted to do was make some pasta. But was life going to let me do that? No. No, it surrounded me with a man who for some reason decided it was a good idea to ask for forgiveness and be nice and kind and pleading.

"Please Emma, just hear me out." Graham followed me into the kitchen and I slammed the wooden spoon onto the counter, growling my frustration.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop following me! I just want to finish making dinner and feed my son, okay?" I grabbed the pot and hauled it over to the sink. The sieve was gone. Why was the sieve gone? "Henry!" I bellowed. I could hear his scampering feet and then graceless plodding down the stairs. He came around the corner into the kitchen and into full view and Graham laughed.

"I found the sieve," Graham murmured and I elbowed him hard in the gut.

"Henry, give me the sieve back please." Henry clamped both his hands onto his 'helmet' and pouted. "Henry." He took a step back. "The sieve, kid. Give it to me or there will be no dinner tonight." And then he sprinted away. Of course he did.

"Want me to get it back?" Graham stretched his legs and fell into a running pose, apparently just waiting for my approval, Approval, that is, to tackle my son and retrieve my sieve. I sighed.

"This doesn't mean I like you."

"I'll take that as a yes." Graham sprinted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I heard the stomps and pattering, the knocking of a big shoulder into a wall and a gleeful cry. Then came a few screams and shrieking laughter interspersed with gasping breaths. And a few more scuffles. Something soft was thrown against a wall. I ignored it. Then something less soft hit a wall and I looked up at the ceiling.

"What was that?"

Two identical yells of "Nothing!" came back to me and I harrumphed as I stirred the pasta, trying vainly to stop it from congealing in its pot.

"I better not see anything broken or out of place when I get up there!"

"Nothing is broken or out of place, Em. And here is your sieve." Graham looked far too pleased right now. Henry was dangled over his shoulder. He somehow managed to cross his arms and glower at me. Oh, and then he stuck out his tongue. I lent Henry a large mixing bowl to use as his helmet, which he took and ran upstairs again with, and then turned to Graham who was still holding my sieve. And I was still cranky with him goddammit. So I told him that.

"I'm still upset." Graham paused halfway to the sink and I changed from mildly upset to I'm-like-three-seconds-away-from-hitting-you in a split second. "Put the sieve in the sink, dammit Graham!"

He dumped it in and jumped out of the way and I waited just long enough to make sure that he is in fact entirely out of the way before dumping the pasta and its very hot water along with it into the sieve. I let it drain for a minute and lean against the counter, my back to Graham.

"Spit it out." I could feel the waves of tension radiating from him and it made me incredibly uncomfortable. "Just whatever you want to say. Say it. Before Henry comes back." And we both know that will be any minute.

"I'm sorry." I know that he is. His voice is low and warm and sincere and he comes and joins me, leaning on the counter. He hung his head and nudged my shoulder with his. "I don't think and I say stupid things. Things I don't mean."

"Like?"

"Like that you're selfish. You're not, by the way," he said, nudging me again. I pursed my lips to stop a smile because I'm happy that I can just accept that he's sorry and not make too much of a big deal about it. And because I know that I'm well on my way to forgiving him. "And I'm sorry that I said you weren't thinking about Henry."

"He's my little prince."

"I know." Graham peeked up at me and smiled. "So… do you think you could forgive me?"

I opened my mouth to tell him 'yes, stupid, of course' and then thought about Regina. "What about Regina? Are you sorry for what you said about her?" Graham leant away from me this time. Was she such a powerful person? So dangerous that my Graham – who had more than once been like a knight in shining armour for me – was afraid of her? Or was she, as I still hoped was true, just misunderstood?

"You like her." Now his voice wasn't warm. It wasn't harsh, not like this morning, but it was still not the voice of my happy and safe Graham. He sounded shocked. And a little confused. "You actually really like her."

"I do. I think I do. I did. But then she just dismissed me because I said no to lunch and I think I really screwed up."

Graham, in turn, screwed up his face and finally let out a long sigh. "Look, Emma. I messed up today. I know that. So I want you to know that whatever you choose to do with Regina – if you want to be her friend or her girlfriend or whatever – I'll support you." I smiled at that. "But if she hurts you I, as your big brother, reserve the right to deal with her as I see fit."

"As if I'd let you. Plus, you're a big baby. She'd totally win against you in a fight."

"Emma."

"Fine. Whatever. But she's not as bad as you seem to think she is."

Graham nodded and shrugged. "I've been wrong before." We both tensed at that, both wondering if that had pushed the bounds of our friendship too far. It was a stinging comment for both of us. But after a moment I realised that it stung far less than it had, say, four years ago, and I saw that Graham felt the same.

We shared relieved smiles and let the conversation go, allowing the tension to seep away. Graham cast his eyes around his kitchen, looking for something to eat. I saw his eyes settled on the grated cheese and slapped his hand away from it when it snuck over.

"Ow! Okay, okay, fine. I'll wait for dinner." He pouted a little but I didn't back down and so he shrugged, hoisting himself up onto the bench. He settled more comfortably so he could peer down at me. I self-consciously tucked some hair behind my left ear. "So what are you doing about it? I mean, about Regina?" He sucked on his teeth a moment, thinking. "I reckon if you want to get back into her good books you should maybe grovel a little," I flinched a little at the suggestion but he didn't seem to notice, "and some sucking up. Stuff like that so she'll talk to you because I hate taking paperwork to her." He smiled down at me. "I swear you were a gift from god when you did it for me."

"So you're helping me for purely selfish reasons?" I asked as I scooped the pasta onto three plates.

"Yup."

"You're an ass."

"And you love me." He pressed a cheeky kiss to my cheek and then ducked away from a slap. Sliding off the bench, Graham stole a pinch of cheese and left. "I'm going to get Henry. Make us dinner, woman!"

"This isn't over!" I shouted after him. He didn't reply. "I'm still angry at you," I yelled even louder.

"We love you too, Emma."

"I love you mamma!"

* * *

The evening passed as it usually did: with good humour from Graham, especially when I took what I thought were rather well-deserved digs at him, and tall tales from my son. Apparently today they learnt their two times tables in class and Henry got four stickers and he also let Grace take his place on the swing because she really wanted a turn. And also something about a pirate.

And I loved it. I love the routine we'd slipped into so quickly. The humour and the chatter and the warmth that came from having a real family, as odd as we might seem to outsiders. But underneath it were hints of indecision on my behalf. An overwhelming _something_ was tugging my eyes to the ground, my shoulders to slump, my feet to drag. Everything took longer – from washing the dishes to answering my son. And I knew what this was, this _something_. It crashed over me when I entered my room, finally alone, late that night. Splintered my focus. I hid under the covers, hoping that the warmth and the tight hold of my blankets would protect me, but they did nothing. Fear had a tight grip on me and refused to let me go.

I wanted Regina to talk to me. I did. Because I know that, like with Graham, the only way to actually fix what was broken between us was to talk. To tell the truth. Like: I'm more self-conscious than I appear to be. I didn't want you to know that I need two jobs to support myself and, oh yeah, my son. Surprise! And: I didn't want to go to lunch with you because I'm scared that I'm already far too attached to you and you'll think I am some obsessive freak or, well, no, actually that's what you will think of me.

So I want to talk to her and fix it. But Graham's word that slipped so easily from his tongue stuck to me. Grovelling. Grovel. _Grovel_. It resonated in my head and I felt the urge to chase it out somehow. Plug in my headphones and ignore the word that thumped and howled. I tried, but it did nothing but push it to center stage. _Drown it, drown the little bugger_, was my next idea but I couldn't do that. Not with a highly impressionable five-year-old in the house. I pulled my pillow over my face and groaned into the soft fabric. Ignore it. Grovel. Grovel. Grovel. Grovel.

I. Do. Not. _Grovel._

I ripped my way out of my bedsheets and hoped that the cool air would calm me down. It didn't.

I do not grovel. I resented the accusation that I would.

And suddenly the dark and my thoughts and the biting chill and my bare feet on the floorboards all served to reach into the hidden parts of me and _pull_. Pull at the thoughts I felt I'd masterfully disguised.

_Oh Emma_, he would whisper in that voice of his that crackled with all his well-meant love. _What did you do_? And he would touch me with those hands of his so gentle and tender that I didn't dare believe could hurt me. Because if those hands, the hands that had only ever loved me before now, could hurt me then the words was a truly dark place indeed and no where was safe. And the guilt I felt, the guilt that sat low in my gut and systematically tore my insides – it came from him. He fed it to me. He demanded that I feel this churning bladed accepted feeling and I hate it. I hate him. I hate hate hate hate hate – _enough_.

I crept out of my bedroom and into Graham's. He woke, rather abruptly, to my scowling face above him.

"I don't grovel," I said.

"Huh?" Oh Graham. He certainly had a talent with words in his half-sleeping state.

"I don't grovel." I heard my tone slipping and sliding into desperation. I fought it. I don't want Graham's help. I don't need help. But those are lies, seeing as soon as I felt this overwhelming hate hate hate it was his room that I snuck into.

"Hey, Emma. Hey." He hauled himself into an upright position and touched my shoulder gently. I probably resisted for all of half a second before I collapsed into him, curling into his arms. I registered his surprise – tensed muscles and a little 'huh' sound that snuck out of his throat – and ignored it. I also felt his scufflings for a moment, movements I assumed had much to do with getting my hair out of his eyes and mouth.

"Talk to me," he said.

He sounded just like he always had. Warm and comfortable and like home. A home I had never found again outside of him. So I did. I spoke.

"He would…" I paused. Needed to breathe. I hadn't realised how much breath it would take to force the word out of me. He. Him. We both knew who I was talking about. I tried again. "It was my fault," I admitted. "Everything that ever happened."

"You know that's not true." His voice was hard. Unforgiving. And it warmed me because I knew that harshness was not for me but for the man that hurt me.

"I know." Despite the brief moments of doubt, I did know that. "I just, you know." He nodded against my hair when I shrugged and clutched me a little tighter. These weren't things we'd ever truly spoken about and in truth, even now we spoke of them in passing. Never saying out aloud what it was. Not wanting to draw forth the memories though we knew they were there, lingering. "I don't know what happened. We were happy and then we weren't and somehow it was all my fault. And no matter what happened, he always wanted me to apologise." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I don't like grovelling, Graham."

"I'm sorry for saying it," he said.

"Okay."

"And I'm sorry about today. I never meant to upset you."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Emma. You're my sister. My best friend. And since you left things have changed and shit has happened but I think deep down we're still the same people." He sighed. "And I'd do anything for you."

I listened intently, happily, knowing that in the dark of the night our words stopped hurting each other and were like tentative agreements to help and nurture. "I missed you, Graham," I told him when I knew he was finished. "While I was gone."

"You mean when you were with him."

"Yes. And after. When I found out I was pregnant you were the first person I wanted to tell." I shuffled in the bed until I was lying next to him and staring up at the ceiling. We'd done this enough times in our youth that I knew he was doing the same. "I was scared. I was so, so scared and in my whole life you were the only person who'd ever made me feel not so scared."

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

"Okay."

With those rather understated acceptances of each other, we continued to speak. Hashing and re-hashing the moments of today until we were comfortable with them. Re-learning each other as the adults we were instead of the sixteen year olds we had been. We'd spoken in the years I had been gone but there was a vast difference between the things you tell your friend when there is light in the sky and curious little ears listening and over a phone line to the things you will discuss and admit when there are just the murmurs of a house already full of such joys and sorrows.

Graham learnt that I hate people grabbing my wrist. I learnt that he hates being touched on the neck. He agreed, vehemently so, never to hit me and I would never hit him. His comic books were off limits and the box in my cupboard underneath a mess of clothes was private and not to be touched. His father was never to be mentioned – unless he brought it up himself – and my past, a shared topic as it might be, was mine and I was to choose when and where and how we discussed it. And somewhere along the line, I think we silently agreed that we would be each others most stoic supporter, even if we were their only. It would be as it had always been. And it might have been sad when we were younger and wanted more and more from life – a sprawling mansion and a dog and a fence and a cushy job and people to boss around – but now that we were a little older and a little wiser, it didn't seem so bad.

We continued to talk until our whispers woke Henry and he trotted into the room dragging from one hand a blanket and from the other his dragon. He snuggled quite happily between us and I fell asleep with my baby boy in my arms and the man I considered my brother almost slipping off his now too-small bed.

With Graham's reassurances that asking for forgiveness or entreating a friend to listen are very different to being forced to grovel, in the very fact that one is a pure and genuine expression from the heart and the other was a crude manipulation of that – and his admittance that he should never have used that word and never would again – a reluctant acceptance allowed me to drift into sleep.

* * *

Day One of 'Operation Friends' – as Henry dubbed it – began as all days do. Henry's elbow dug into my spine as he sprawled, tangled in the sheets. I forced my weary body to crawl out of bed and slowly dragged myself into my own room, where I encountered an equally bleary Graham. He had taken my room, clearly, seeing as Henry and I had taken his and physically kicked him out of his bed. Completely by accident, of course.

Henry washed and dressed and ate and I dropped him off at school. I bought my coffee and one for Michael and Regina as well. Graham slunk into his office, proverbial tail between his legs, when I glared at him. He had been shaking his head and I just knew that a little part of him still disapproved of my trying to befriend Regina again.

I also bought her lunch.

Day Two of 'Operation Friends' saw a coffee deposited neatly on Regina's desk, hopefully still steaming when she entered the office. Michael had looked guiltily left and right but nodded to allow me in. It was a close call but I let myself scribble a 'Have a great day, Madame Mayor' on a post-it and, at the very last moment, tore it off and stuck it in my pocket.

Day Three. Buying the coffee and walking to her office seemed by now to be muscle memory. An action without which my day would hardly make sense. I enjoyed the aroma drifting to my nose, sneaking in and tantalising, igniting my mind and body. If it were the coffee alone that I was enjoying I wouldn't equally despair and enjoy it. But it wasn't just the coffee. How could it ever be _just_ coffee when I had Regina had ground herself into every possible meaning of the beverage? Bitter (that one speaks for itself), strong, graceful fluidity, and sharp with an extra something that had me hanging off the edge of my seat. She was – coffee was – invigorating and I wasn't sure that I would be able to give it up. It was an addiction all right.

It seemed right, therefore, that I should be wooing her – befriending her, I mean – with coffee. I also brought her some chocolates, though from the way Michael eyed them I suspect that he may have gotten a hold of them before Regina did. I slapped another post-it note on the box – 'I'm sorry', this time. 'Can we talk?' – and again, when I was walking out I jogged back, ripped it off, and shoved it deep into my jacket pocket. I then spent the rest of the day endeavouring to pretend I wasn't thinking of her.

Day Four, Five, Six, and Seven of 'Operation Friends' continued much like the others. Only, when I tried to branch out into actually talking to Regina I found that she was quite marvellous at playing hide-and-go-seek and she was no where to be found. And when I did know where she was, thanks to Michael or Graham or Ruby, she was always gone by the time I got there. And her house, clearly, was off limits because that would just be bloody creepy to turn up there to talk to her. I hardly know the woman.

The coffees, of course, continued.

Day Eight was when people started looking at me oddly. They apparently, somehow, from someone, knew what I was doing. What my mission was. If they thought that they would be sufficient enough to deter me, they were wrong. I ignored them.

By Day Twelve the weird looks started to get to me.

Day Fifteen Ruby lent forward over the counter to talk to me as I waited for my coffees, giving anyone who cared to look a wonderful view of her cleavage. I didn't care to look. Graham did. "Maybe you should just give up, Em."

"Ruby. Stop it. Give me my coffees." After a moment I added a "please" because I didn't want to be rude. Only she'd said this for the last four days in a row and it was starting to get to me. Mostly because it hadn't really occurred to me to give up and now that she'd said it – repeatedly – the idea was weighing on me.

I couldn't give up. Not yet. And why not? Because I was holding back. I knew that. And if I want to know that I did everything I could to try and fix this, then I clearly have to stop holding back. And here's the thing: I had a very full pockets worth of post-it notes in my jacket and I regretted both writing them and also not giving them to Regina when I had the chance. You know, the chance I've had every day since I started this stupid 'Operation Friends'. I just couldn't bear to part with the notes. It's not like they were written on diamond stuffed paper or were incredibly profound works of art. I just… I didn't want to give them away and least of all give them to Regina. And that isn't a judgement or a criticism on her – it's me. Me admitting that, perhaps, maybe, I might have stumbled for this woman. And me admitting that I'm in a position of weakness and vulnerability and it scares me. So I can't possibly give her these notes and open myself up for further humiliation and ridicule.

I can't give them to her. Not the ones that say I hope she enjoys her lunch. Not the ones that say have a nice day. And certainly not the ones that have me caving first; not the ones that say I'm sorry for leaving you that day. I regret not going to lunch with you. My heart hurts when I think about how cold you were to me that day and not because you hurt my feelings – okay a little bit because you hurt my feelings – but because I'm sure that I hurt yours. And I'm sorry for that. And I also can't give her the notes I found myself sneakily writing when I was in a good mood – playful, even – that say I like your eyes. Or your hands. Your boobs are nice too. I didn't mean that. Well, I did but I didn't mean it to be disrespectful. You have nice boobs. They're really great. Also you are just really a very beautiful person all around and sometimes I forget what I want to say or do or if I want to breath because I looked at you.

It would be a bad idea to give her those. Any of those. I took the last kind, the disrespectful ones, out of the pile. Those are the only ones I threw away though I ached to be rid of all of them. My treacherous heart – rather infamous for ignoring the relative wisdom of my brain – told me that I ached to be rid of them but only if their resting place was in Regina's hands or on Regina's desk. I shot that thought down. _Bad Emma_, I told myself. _Protect yourself_. My counter argument to that, however, was pretty good. _Protecting myself is how I got into this mess. You were scared and you hurt Regina's feelings and now you are moving back and forth between a fear of the past repeating itself and a desire to have your own future. A future, might I add, where he doesn't haunt you. Isn't that what you told Graham? _And when my answer is yes, as of course it must be, the heart rests its case.

My worry didn't dissipate and I didn't hand my notes to Regina but I felt more comfortable in, well, feeling. Feeling what I did for Regina who, despite everyone telling me that she is cruel and malevolent, had done nothing but hide herself away since I hurt her. And that didn't scream serial killer or sadist to me. It whispered lonely and alone and sad. And my guilt returned fourfold.

Day twenty is the day Ruby put her foot down. She refused to sell me the coffees. I felt my confusion crinkling my brow for me and she softened, tilting her head to the side so she could analyse me more easily.

"Emma, it's not doing anything. You're just wasting your money and, as a friend, I can't let you do that." She paused. "Regina isn't coming around, Emma. And coffee isn't going to make her. I'm sorry."

I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to tell her that I don't have friends. I don't make those connections. That all she is to me is the waitress that gives me coffee I require to rebuild a crumbling friendship. And that is the moment I realise she is right. Because first of all I don't yell at her any of these things. She _is_ my friend and that in itself is a jarring and novel concept. Added to the fact that behind her teasing I see worry, worry for _me, _and I know that she's right. These coffee runs aren't doing anything. Friendship, like I told myself before, is a leap of faith and I've done nothing but protect myself when it comes to Regina. I nod.

This has been weighing on me for way too long. Stress is making it hard to sleep – not to mention the fact that I'm juggling two jobs and trying to look after Henry as well – and I look like crap. I know because I look in the mirror sometimes and also because I can see it in their eyes when they look at me. Graham, Ruby, even Mary Margaret (who still insists that I call her MM). They're worried about me. Hell, I'm worried about me. The circles under my eyes haven't been this dark since the time I broke my nose and sported fashionable raccoon eyes for a whole week.

"Okay," I said. "Just this last time and I'm done." Ruby's eyes narrowed in suspicion and disbelief. I smiled. "I promise. Just one more day and there's something I want to do – I just want to know that I tried, you know?"

"You've more than tried, Em," Ruby insisted. But she still tamped the ground beans and started the machine. This is why I was starting to really like her. She's strong-willed and brash and opinionated – none of which are bad characteristics – and she's also smart and funny and apparently has a firm grip on when to push and when to let go of something. "Oh and if you order the same thing tomorrow, I'm cutting you off."

"Yes ma'am," I said. Then I gave her the most genuine smile of thanks I could and trotted off. If this doesn't work, I told myself, then that's it. Short of kidnapping Regina or stalking her or drugging her or something like that, there's nothing I can do about it. I'll lay my cards out. All of them. So she can see them and then it's her turn. And I guess we'll see how that turns out.

I sidled into the office and Michael immediately perked up, eyes lighting up at the prospect of coffee. I avoided the water stain on the carpet – not looking at it and not touching it – because I knew that it upsets Michael.

"Hey."

"Good morning, Emma." He glanced at the door. "You can go right in. She's not in yet."

"Great. Thanks." I let myself into Regina's office feeling, as I always did, somewhat like I was trespassing. The room was perpetually neat, perpetually beautiful, and I moved carefully through the space as though to breathe would be to disrupt that which was specifically Regina's. I lowered the cup to its coaster, which I noticed that Regina had left in its place to be neither encouraging nor discouraging of my actions, making sure not to spill a drop on her sublime desk.

I fiddled for a moment with the crinkling multitude of notes in my pocket before summoning up what little courage I had, saying a brief mental 'fuck it', and dumping all the notes into an envelope. I scrawled a messy 'Regina' on the front of it, knowing that my time in here was coming to an end, and left.

I didn't like doing it. I don't like opening myself up to such potential humiliation and pain. But I also hate knowing that I didn't put one hundred per cent into fixing something that made me feel alive and vibrant and wanted and special and dorky and clumsy and heart pounding faster than I think it should and dizzy in the head.

I just hope it worked.

**Hello everyone. Just letting you know that I probably won't be updating until after the 5****th**** due to a severe university workload**. **If I do, well…I'm procrastinating and that's good (I hope) for you and bad for me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, I love to hear what you thought. Leave a review or follow me on tumblr (elizadownunder) and send me a message. Happy reading, readers :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Ten.**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy. Once again I would like to thank pirateofpenzance for being my beta and bestie – she's super cool. Y'all should follow her on tumblr (pirateofpenzance). That is all. **

_- Have a great day __Regina__. Madame Mayor. I hope the coffee is still warm._

_- I hope you have a nice day. Emma :)_

_- I heard you were having trouble with some of your mayoral duties. Not trouble like you weren't dealing with them but trouble like someone was trying to mess you up. I hope everything worked out. _

_- Do you drink frappaccinos? _

_- Regina__. __Madame Mayor. __Regina. Please talk to me. I'd really like to talk about why I turned you down – and it isn't because I don't like you or anything like that. I swear. But please, just talk to me? I don't want to leave it on your desk or anything like that. Please._

_- You know, I think you're too hot to be a mayor. Mayors are supposed to be dumpy and wear thick glasses and ring bells and say 'hear ye, hear ye' and all that stuff. I'd sure be able to concentrate more easily if you looked like that. _

_- Call me? _

_- I think Ruby might have added something a little extra to your coffee today? Possibly chocolate, potentially poison. Most likely chocolate. _

_- You should really stop getting angry at Graham for me not doing my paperwork properly. Poor guy. You know I would do it right if you would just talk to me. Also I don't know what I'm supposed to write in half of it so if you could explain it to me I'd really like that. _

_- If making me patrol the park last night was some kind of joke to you I don't really appreciate it. You need some help with your humour. And if it's payback for not going to lunch with you – I'd actually really like to talk to you about that at some point. Please._

_- You look nice today._

_- Why did the cookie go to the hospital? Because he felt crummy! Have a non-crummy day, Madame Mills :)_

_- What if we just start over? I'll let you pour coffee over me if it makes you feel better._

_- Okay so it's surprisingly cold today. I hope that you're wearing a scarf or a coat or something. I don't have any gloves so I'm really glad I had this coffee to hold. I hope it's still hot when you get it. And I told Michael to turn your air-conditioning off because when I got in here it was FREEZING. I hope you don't mind. Have a great day :)_

_- Do you even like this coffee? I never checked. Should I bring sugar or cream next time? Do you even drink these?_

_- I hope Michael didn't eat your lunch. It was your favourite. I wasn't stalking you or anything but Ruby told me what you like to eat. _

_- Do you wear sneakers at home? No one could wear those heels 24/7 unless they were some kind of witch. Not that you're a witch. It was a joke. I'm not being mean. Goddammit. I was trying to be funny and also say that they must be a bitch to walk in. I like them though. They make your ass look fantastic. _

_- What did the sheriff say to his tummy? You're under a vest!_

_- Sorry. I drank your coffee accidentally. I'm really tired. But here's mine. There's a bit of sugar in it so I hope you don't mind. _

_- Are you the person who made an anonymous tip the other day? Because there was no suspicious package dropped in the dumpster. I should know because I was in there for _two hours_. I hope you're happy._

_- Happy Thursday!_

_- What did Snow White say when she was told her photos weren't ready yet? Someday my prints will come! (Get it? Prints – prince? Hahahaha) Hope that brightened your day a little_

_- Good morning, Madame Mayor. I hope you have a great weekend._

* * *

I think I'd made a mistake. A serious, serious mistake in agreeing to this.

"Can we have ice cream?" Henry was bouncing on his bed eagerly and I groaned when I realised that by letting him pick what we do tonight I was in for a whole night of tummy aches and sugar rushes. Also laughter and fun and watching my cute son use completely outrageous gestures that somehow supported his equally outrageous stories and jokes that he gleaned from school. Ah – and popcorn will be scattered _everywhere_. We both crouched down and patted Puppy as we passed his bed – in my room – and he growled affectionately at us before going back to sleep. "And we should have cereal for dinner," he said as he tugged me down the stairs. I groaned again, this time just to annoy him. "And we should watch Pokemon and I want to watch Up."

"No. Nope. Not gonna happen."

"Mamma." Henry stopped and turned to me, hands on hip and a dangerous frown. "You can't say no. It's my night."

He makes a good point. "I use my veto."

"You used your vetto-"

"Veto, Henry."

"Veto," he continued without pausing, "on Batman."

"Because Batman is terrifying and I'm not letting you watch that until you're thirty years old, mister."

"We're watching Up."

"We're not watching Up. It makes me cry." I pouted. He didn't look moved. I pouted a little more. "Henry. It makes me cry _every time_. You don't want your mamma to cry, do you?"

He looked like he was going to break. His face fell and he reached up to pat my cheek. "You can cry. We're watching Up."

Why that little…

"And I wanna have chocolate icecream in my cereal."

"Ew!" I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion and he rolled his eyes. "Okay, you aren't having chocolate icecream in your cereal."

"Chocolate milk?"

"Um no. Normal milk and maybe a little bit of chocolate later. And, you know, maybe we could have a little less sugar tonight and maybe a little more fruit."

My son scowled at me and crossed his arms. "Mamma." Oh no. His sad voice. "You promised." He used his baby voice to make it sound like 'pwomised' and I caved.

"Would it be so bad if you just had a little tomato?" I wheedled.

"No. That's a veggie." So stern.

"It's a fruit."

"Don't you try and trick me, mamma. Is a veggie."

"Tomatoes are fruit – come on, Henry. Just one healthy thing and I'll let you eat cereal for dinner." I took a peek into the fridge, searching for something healthy. "Oh. We don't have any milk so we can't have cereal."

"You can buy some."

He's not backing down any time soon. I can tell. So I nod and sigh. "Fine. But you will be eating a whole tomato when I get back – and no complaining. Understand?" He scrunched up his face as he tried to weigh the options. Cereal – tomato. No cereal – still gonna have to eat a tomato.

"Okay mamma." He planted his hands on my legs and started to push me towards the door. I gaped down at him and laughed, shaking my head.

"Okay, okay. I'm going. But you, mister, are going to sit down in front of the television and you will not move until I come back. No fires. No knives. No yelling. And don't turn up the volume again because as much as Miss Blanchard likes us, she doesn't want to hear our television from two apartments away. Got it?"

"Yup."

"You will sit mindlessly and not get hurt at all?"

"No hurt. Television," he repeated, nodding.

"Good boy." I picked him up under the armpits and, clutching my laughing wriggling boy to my chest, plonked him down on the couch. "I'll be back soon, okay? I love you, kid." It felt a bit much to be saying 'I love you' since I'm just going away for, like, ten minutes max. But then again, I'm pretty sure that he should always know that I loved him. And that I was coming back.

"I love you mamma." He smiled. "Can you get juice too?" I sighed. Boy was a gold digger. I'd raised him well.

I slipped my shoes on, grabbed my wallet from the table, and opened the door as I reached for my jacket. I didn't grab it. I was too shocked by what was in front of me. Or, to be more accurate, who.

Regina.

Regina bloody Mills was standing in front of me. She didn't look out of place at all in a place that I am absolutely certain that she has never been. You know, in front of my door. She did, however, look mildly shocked that I'd opened the door. I suppose because she hadn't knocked yet.

"Ah. Deputy Swan." I stared at her. "I can see I have caught you at a bad time."

Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit I look like a mess. I was just running down to the store – why the hell would the universe let her see me like this? Does it just happen to enjoy making a mockery of me? I'm in my _pyjamas_ for gods sake. Flannel pants with the superman logo. A tank top. At least I have pants on. I do have pants on…right? Yes. Oh thank god for small mercies, I have pants on. But they are still the superman pants and oh my god I haven't brushed my hair. Or my teeth. Of course this is the moment that this beautiful amazing perfect person would be standing in front of me. Crap.

"I came to speak with you about a few things." She paused, clearly giving me time to answer. With a nod, perhaps, or some actual words strung together into a sentence with meaning. I did neither. I just stared at her. I couldn't help it. It was an overload of Regina. Things I hadn't noticed about her now came into sharp focus as I could do nothing but stare at her. A little crook in her nose – an impression from glasses? Her hair was dark. Not quite black and it shone a deep colour that took in red and brown and every shade in between and made itself intoxicating. And inviting. I wanted to touch – _no_. Bad Emma. A small scar over her upper lip, barely noticeable. Again, touch touch – _no_. Goddammit. That curl in her hair that flicked up just so. Her cheekbones. And god, her eyes.

"Am I to take your silence as eagerness to listen, Miss Swan?" Ever the politician, she's ready to clean up a social faux pas. Even if the faux pas happens to be mine. I know that I'm being awkward. I know that I'm being somewhat crazy, just paused in time as I am. I was so still as I just stared at her. No part of me was moving, other than my eyes flicking over her face. My mouth, I knew, was a little open in surprise. I must look like a freak but I just can't snap myself out of it. I just – she has her ears pierced. And that shirt looks really good on her.

"Miss Swan, I came to speak with you but if you will not even acknowledge my presence I will leave. I will find someone else to discuss this with." She turns on her heel to leave and thus I am left breathless and confused. Not acknowledge her? Is she serious? All I'm doing is bloody well acknowledging the fact that she's standing in front of me. I'm practically worshipping her with my eyes – she should know by now how stupid I get when I look at her. And what did she expect when I hadn't seen her for three weeks? That I would somehow still be able to function around her? Not bloody likely.

But I barely even know the woman. And she has avoided me. So…I'm angry. I'm angry, right? I rip my eyes away from her and the moment, probably many times more clumsy than it should be, makes me bump into the door. I scramble to do something with my jacket – what am I doing? I suck in a deep breath. Was I leaving or staying? I can't remember. The damn woman's unsettled me far too much.

"Mamma? Can you get chocolate milk and juice _and_ white milk?" Henry's voice rings out loud and clear into the space between me and Regina. The woman stops just short of the stairs leading down and away from our apartment. Her shoulders stiffen. When she turns back to me, it is with a cold look.

Panic. Sudden, abrupt, and overwhelming panic flooded me. Run. Run and hide. Take Henry and run. Take Henry and hold him close and run and hide and keep going. Don't look back. Looking back is bad. Run.

"Deputy Swan." Her voice is dangerous. Positively poisonous. "Have you abducted a child?"

Her serious question and the icy fury that she somehow manages to carry with her, wrap around herself like her own highly fashionable armour, pulls me out of my panicking mind and makes me laugh. Me? Abduct Henry?

She is shocked. I can see that. And then she is confused. Henry's voice and the silliness of the suggestion successfully managed to shake me out of my Regina-induced stupor and I smile at her, even though I just want to shake her and say 'finally!' and 'hello' and 'yes I was a dick but so were you so let's just start okay'.

"Mamma, is that a yes?" Henry flung himself around the corner at me and, seeing Regina, he slowed and stopped. I turned to him, my precious boy, and smiled.

"A yes for what, kid?" I held my hand out toward him and gave a little twitch of my fingers that tells him its okay, come closer, I want you here with me. He darted over and I pulled him up into my arms. "A yes for what?" I asked again.

"Chocolate milk," he whispered.

"Chocolate milk?"

He nodded into my neck. "And juice and white milk."

"_And_ juice _and_ white milk?" He nodded again. "No kid. I'm just getting white milk." He pouted and I looked away from that stunning face, only to lock eyes with Regina. She looked normal. Completely unfazed. Except for the fact that her mouth was open and she wasn't speaking. "Regina," I begin. I get exactly nowhere else with that sentence though because Henry tugs my shirt and leans up to whisper in my ear.

"Is that her?"

"Yup."

"Can I talk to her?"

"Do you want to?" I peer down at my son and watch as his face changes from excitement to thoughtful to frightened and back to excited.

"Yup."

To think, my son wants to talk to Regina. She's not exactly the worlds sweetest person and Henry isn't exactly the worlds most confident child. I beamed down at him, proud that he's breaking out of his shell. "Then sure. Of course you can, kid." He wriggled in my arms until I put him down. Then, taking a deep breath, he walked over to Regina and held out his hand.

"Hi. My name's Henry. Is nice to meet you."

Regina blinked. She blinked once, twice, and then her good manners took over and she took Henry's hand gracefully in hers and shook. "It is very nice to meet you, Mister Henry." She hesitated, no doubt wondering what his last name was. "My name is Regina."

"You're 'Gina?" he asked her.

"My name is Regina," she corrected quickly.

"That's what I said," Henry said in that 'duh' voice of his. "Gina." Regina sighed through her nose but didn't correct him again. How sweet. "Are you _the_ Gina?" He craned his neck back towards me, looking for confirmation, and I nodded. This was Regina alright. "Awesome." He beamed up at her. "You wanna stay for dinner? We're having cereal. I want Lucky Charms. They're my favourite but you can have some if you want."

"Ah." Regina paused again. So many hesitations on her behalf. Regina must be well out of her comfort zone. Though I can't believe she's never been in this situation before – I mean, being invited to a cereal dinner by an adorable five year old is no doubt a common occurrence. "I'm afraid I have a number of obligations tonight, Mister Henry, and I must decline. But thank you for the lovely welcome."

Henry turned to me, needing a translation. I shook my head. "She can't make it tonight."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow you're sleeping at Nicholas's house, remember?"

Henry scrunched up his face. "Night after?"

"We'll see." I glanced at my watch. It was getting late and I wanted Henry fed soon. "Henry, I still have to go to the store. Lock the door after me, okay?" He nodded sulkily, no doubt wanting to spend more time with his new friend Regina, and slunk back into the apartment. I waited. Knocked. "Lock the door, Henry." I waited again until I heard the click. Then I left.

I brushed past Regina and, from the click of her heels behind me, I knew she was following.

"You know," I started to say at the same time Regina says "Miss Swan." I look at her sideways and shrug, gesturing for her to speak first.

"Miss Swan." She takes a moment, shaking her head, to pull back into her normal icy demeanour. I don't mind. I saw a glimpse of warmth when she spoke to Henry and that's enough for me to know that I was right. She's not just Regina the mega-bitch mayor. She's a person too. "I came to speak with you regarding a rather plentiful number of break-ins to my office." I raised my eyebrows – she wasn't talking about the coffees, was she? "It seems as if the perpetrator is hell bent on leaving me a hot beverage."

"If you want to be cranky at me for some reason, Regina, then yes. I left those for you." I stuff my hands deep into my pockets and hunch my shoulders a little against the wind. Thank the lord for flannel. It's cold out tonight.

"I could have burnt myself!" she said angrily. I think she just needed a reason to be angry about it. I'm not sure why.

"Well, if you lost your depth perception and the ability to drink I'm sure that would be a hazard for you." I tried not to look at her, given that her face was making it difficult to breathe. "I didn't think about that."

"You didn't think at all, I'm certain. What if delinquents had seen you breaking and entering? Lawlessness would erupt. The office would not be safe. No one would obey the rulings of my position."

"Are you seriously saying that my bringing you coffee equals the rise of anarchy?" I stopped as I said it, crossing my arms. As luck would have it, we were also stopped directly outside of the 24 hour mart.

"Well,"

"Regina, if you have something that you actually want to talk about I'm all ears. But the coffee thing? I was trying to do something nice because I hurt your feelings and I'm sorry about that."

Regina faltered for a moment. I know because she clicked her teeth together and then snapped the words "What about these?" as if she had something to prove to me. She pulled the envelope – _the_ envelope, the one with my notes in it – out of her bag. "_These_ are highly inappropriate material, Miss Swan. Not to mention embarrassingly for both the sheriff and the mayors office."

I stared at the envelope. She has it with her. She has it with her, on her person. Does she like them or hate them? "If they're so embarrassingly," I said slowly, seeing the rise of a light blush in her cheeks, "then you can give them back to me right now." I reached out for them, held my hand out, but saw her flinch back a little. Her hand clenched on the envelope tightly.

"I will destroy them myself, Miss Swan. I do not believe I can trust someone like you with the property of such material."

"Yeah because I totally didn't have the chance to post them all around the town for the twenty days I was carrying them in my pocket." I shrugged. "Whatever, Regina. Keep them. I did write them for you after all." I shrugged again but the deliberate nonchalance was wearing on me and I feared that any second my anxiety would show and I would start blabbering uncontrollably.

"For what purpose did you write them?" she asked. Great. Now she's suspicious. Fantastic.

"Because I wanted to."

"And why did you want to?"

"Look, Regina, I'd love to talk but I have to buy some milk and get back to Henry. So maybe we can talk about this tomorrow?" I backed into the store and smiled. She just stared at me with this cute little thinking frown.

"Cereal is not a nutritious dinner for a child, Miss Swan!" I gave her a thumbs up to acknowledge the comment and, when she looked away, I shook my head and smiled. I think this went well.

One thought that stuck in my mind as I wandered the aisles searching for the milk was 'what made her come to me? At night, with the notes, searching for me?' It had been three days since I left those on her desk. If she actually cared about what I'd written, I'm sure I would have heard about it straight away. So what had happened that made her seek me out?

And another thought that stopped me dead in the aisle:

How did she know where I lived?

When I came out of the store, milk in one hand, chocolate milk in the other because I'm a sucker for my kid and also I love chocolate milk, Regina was gone. I hadn't expected her to stay. Still, I looked left and right and when I was certain she was gone I sighed, a little disappointed, and returned to Henry. We had two bowls of cereal each and watched Harry Potter - it was a compromise, an excellent excellent compromise - and true to form Henry succumbed to a tummy ache and then made me carry him to bed when he decided that he was wonderfully and thoroughly exhausted.

* * *

"I saw her car, Michael."

Michael cast another worried look at Regina's office door and he shook his head furiously. "She isn't here. I can't let you in. I'm sorry." His eyes widened. "_Please_ leave, Emma."

"She's in there isn't she?" He shook his head vigorously, denying it. I patted him on the shoulder. "Fine. It's fine, Michael. I'll leave."

And I was going to. I swear, I had turned around and I was about to leave when I heard it. A little click. She locked the door. I stopped. Michael groaned.

I swung around very slowly to look at the intimidating doors. I strode up to them, whipped out my handy dandy lock-picking set, and had the door unlocked in ten seconds. I reached up to open the door only to see it swing open in front of me and Regina, arms crossed and glowering, glowered down at me.

"Deputy Swan."

"Madame Mayor."

"What are you doing?"

I squinted up at her and tilted my head to the side. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you are breaking into my office."

"Well, you know, I thought that I wasn't really showing those delinquents how to do it properly. You know, what with my being invited in with my hot beverages and all. They could really do with a lock-picking tutorial." She didn't look impressed. Or amused. I lifted myself up from my semi-kneeling position and raised my eyebrows. "You going to let me in?"

She didn't speak for a long moment. Then her gaze shifted to Michael. "Go to lunch."

"Madame Mayor?" Michael rose and moved to stand in front of his desk. "It's only ten."

"Lunch. Now. Go please."

"Ah." His gaze moved restlessly between us, and then specifically at the murderous look in Regina's eyes, before he nodded. "Yes ma'am."

We stood together in silence for a while. I was the one to break the tension, finally. I leant against the wall and crossed my arms, pretending nonchalance though I could feel a sweat gathering at the small of my back. Nerves. Intense nerves from the way this woman is staring me down. I had to retain focus though. I couldn't become a bumbling fool like I usually do.

"I would have brought coffee but Ruby cut me off."

Regina blinked. "Pardon?"

"Ruby. The waitress at Granny's?" Regina rolled her eyes and if that wasn't the most dismissive thing I've ever seen her do then I don't know what is.

"I know who Miss Lucas is."

"Right. Well, she cut me off. Something about bringing you coffee every day is trying too hard." Something different crossed Regina's face. It couldn't be anger, could it? That I had stopped or that Ruby had stopped me? Or that I had brought coffee at all. "Anyway, can I come in or not?"

Regina stepped backwards into her office and left the door open. I supposed that was as much of an invitation as I was going to get. I accepted. I slipped inside and stood awkwardly in front of the desk. She sat primly behind it. I hate the desk. I hate that she hides behind it – hell, I hate that she hides behind some mask of propriety and superiority and elegance _and _behind that desk. Both of which tell me that she's better than me. That she's mayor. But I kind of love that desk too. It's beautiful.

"Did you wish to say something?"

"Oh. Yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck and thought about the many different ways I could go about this. I decide to go with painfully blunt, seeing as trying to tempt her into talking to me went not-so-well. "Okay. You totally overreacted."

"To what are you referring, Miss Swan?"

"It's deputy. And I'm talking about that day. You know, about three weeks ago now, when you totally flipped out just because I said no to lunch."

"I did not."

I sighed heavily. "I'm not starting a did too did not fight with you. I have a five year old who is far too good at that." I shifted on my feet, still not used to admitting that to anyone. Well, anyone who mattered. "You overreacted, Regina," I said, getting back on point. "And now I want to talk to you about it."

"I'm not discussing this with you, deputy. I did not," she sneered, "overreact."

"No? Really? Okay, fine. So when I tried to apologise you didn't pretend that you had no idea what I was talking about. Oh, and when I brought you coffee every day trying to apologise you didn't just ignore me? Oh – and did I or did I not just have to break into your office to talk to you? You've been avoiding me and you never contacted me and you never acknowledged that at least I was trying to fix this." My hand pointed from me to her and back to me again dramatically. "And for some reason you come over to my apartment last night and then you talk about absolutely nothing important." I shook my head, feeling just utterly exhausted now of this whole mess. "You know what? Never mind." I closed my eyes, forced myself to relax and then nodded. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to reject you. I said no because I was scared that I was getting too attached to you and because it was my day off. And on my day off I was going to help Leroy."

"Leroy?" She asked. "Mr Grumph?"

"The one and only. A pipe burst and he needed help."

"Well aren't you kind. Helping out the less fortunate."

"Pfft as if. No. He paid me. It's my second job because I'm not some big hot-shot mayor and I can't support me and my kid on a deputy's wage."

She was silent a moment. "If this is a roundabout way of asking for a raise, deputy,"

"It's actually an extremely not roundabout way of saying that you avoided me for three weeks because you thought I was being mean to you! God, Regina. Get over yourself, okay?" She blinked at that. I knew what that meant – shock. "And if you don't want to be friends with me then fine. But I came here to smooth things over so I can send you my paperwork and not have to make the sheriff carry notes between us like second graders."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"I believe so." She shuffled the papers on her desk. "This arrangement is inconvenient for you and your paperwork is suffering."

"Are you serious right now?" I half-screamed. Because that…that was not at all what I had said. Then I actually looked at her and saw the small smile that she was trying to resist and I slumped back against the wall. "Jesus Christ, Regina. I thought you were serious."

"Indeed. And that was what made it amusing, deputy."

We stood – I stood, actually, she was still sitting – in her office and looked at each other and finally I nodded. "Well. I guess that's all I had to say." I scratched at my neck and began to retreat. Regina nodded and focused her attention on her computer. "Regina?" I asked, suddenly recalling a question I had for her.

"Deputy?"

"Why did you come around last night?"

Regina's face flushed slightly. "I had to berate you for the breaking into my office, Deputy Swan."

"And the notes?"

"Those also."

"I see. But why did that take you three days?"

Regina lent back in her chair and I felt, not for the first time, that she was appraising me. I just hoped she liked what she saw. After a few moments, she broke eye-contact (which was a good thing given that I was slowly forgetting how to breathe) and picked up a file. She shook it at me and I realised I was supposed to take it.

"This was given to me. Don't," she said quickly. "Don't look at it now." I closed it. "That was given to me yesterday morning and I am loathe to admit that it was weighing on me for most of the day."

"Okay, see, now I'm super curious about it," I joked.

"Indeed. As was I. And, when you see it, you will understand why I came to you." Regina looked away from me. "You may leave now, Miss Swan."

So I did. With a little granule of hope that something was going sort of well between us and a mysterious little folder I told myself I wasn't going to look at until I returned to the station – but who was I kidding. The second I was out of the building I tore into the folder, only to drop it onto my car bonnet. The pages scattered everywhere and it took me a few minutes to regroup enough to collect them.

Oh my god.

* * *

**Hi everyone. I hope you enjoyed this latest instalment. I've finally finished the semester – yay! I love your reviews and messages and I love seeing how interesting you all are on tumblr (speaking of, I'm elizadownunder so come talk to me if you want) so let me know what you thought. And if you want to see something in particular, let me know that as well. As always, happy reading, readers :) **


	11. Chapter 11

**Coffee To Go: Chapter Eleven**

**I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

**Please enjoy. (And may I just say that I very much enjoyed your irate "What a cliffhanger?" reviews.) Thanks again to pirateofpenzance, my bestie. **

It was…it was me. Staring up at me, glossy and freshly printed, was me. A younger, bruised, scared me – more accurately, the eighteen year old version of me. In jail. I quickly scrambled the pages so I wouldn't have to look at my mugshot any longer but behind that were pages just as bad. Things that should have been tightly sealed and locked behind a couple of badass government firewalls. Things like my juvenile record, my foster home record, my behavioural report. It was all here.

I searched frantically through it for any mention of Henry but he wasn't in there. Thank god for small mercies. He'd clearly been left out and I could only assume it was because whoever had done this – stalked me, compiled me neatly into a folder – hadn't known about the kid.

I looked up at the mayor's office. Why had she given me this? Had she read all of it? What was she planning to do with it? Again – why had she given it to _me_?

I didn't understand. Couldn't. What the hell was going on here? Considering returning to Regina and interrogating her about it, I dismissed that idea and shook myself out of my daze. I drove to the station, slammed my way into the building, and dropped the file on Graham's desk. He frowned at them and up at me. Then he smiled.

"Are you back in Regina's good graces, then?" He chuckled. "Colour me surprised. I guess you just had to stop chasing her and let her to the chasing." I opened my mouth to say something but my stupid brain was on the fritz – information overload, confusion high – and just stood there and stared at the file. "Emma?"

I nodded distractedly and shushed him. "She gave me that."

"Look, Emma, if they're nudes I really don't want to-"

"Graham." The tone I used put a stop to his humour. I was shaken. Thoroughly. I had no bloody clue what was going on and unless Graham helped me I don't think I could calm down enough to figure it out. "I need you to look at this."

I needed him to do it. So he did. He grabbed the folder and flicked through it, quickly at first and then more slowly. At the turn of every page, his frown deepened and I could hear him mumbling to himself. Finally, he placed it down on his desk. "This doesn't make sense."

"What?"

"These are supposed to be sealed," he insisted. "These – no one should have access to this." He shook his head. We both stared at the file, which sat between us as a puzzle. Our minds whirred as we tried to figure it out. What was this and who could have done it?

Graham tapped his pencil against his pursed lips as he thought. I dropped my arse into visitors chair and, bracing my elbows against my knees, frowned purposefully at the floor.

"Why would she give me this?" I asked him finally. "She could crush me with the amount of shit that is in there. Why not use it?" I looked up in time to see Graham shrug.

"Maybe you and your coffee had more of an effect that you think they did."

"Right. Right." I nodded but could it really be that? Could she really not hate me? She did smile at me. And make a joke. "Okay. You know what?" I nodded again, more forcefully, and pushed up out of the chair. Sitting idly wasn't helping me to think. I started to pace and then rolled my shoulders to loosen them up. "Let's go with that. Let's assume that Regina was involved in this – let's assume that she just gave me the files." Graham crossed his legs and his eyes unfocused slightly as he thought, watching me mindlessly pace back and forth.

It felt like old times again, when we would pair up on school projects and brainstorm the shit out of them.

"Okay. First things first - who could have done this?" He took up the file again and thumbed through the pages. I turned away. I didn't really want to see all of my past mistakes in black and white right in front of me. "Emma, look at this."

"I'd really rather not," I whined. I know, I know. I'm pathetic.

Graham threw his stress ball at me. I caught it and chucked it back. "Emma. I'm serious. Look at it." I groaned but stepped around to his side of the desk. He turned the page a little toward me and tapped the letterhead. "I know this – everyone knows that the government protects sealed records. This is yours and," he shuffled through all of the papers, showing me the different letterheads, "they're all government sites."

"What does that mean?" He frowned and I shrugged. "I don't know much about keeping people out, Graham. I'm more on the hacking side of the law myself. Used to be, I mean."

He nodded. "It means that this shit was protected by about forty firewalls."

"So?"

"So we're looking for someone smart. Really smart. And who has no problem digging up all the shit in your past. And," he frowned, "who seems to have made it their job to _only_ dig up the shit you've done."

"Great." I had a look myself and felt the anger I felt at being exposed and stuffed into a folder growing. "What a dick! What the hell? It's only bad stuff." I double-checked. "There's none of my recommendations or a list of my community service. They haven't even put in my early parole or anything."

Graham's hands clenched on the edge of his desk. "Emma."

"Don't say it."

"I have to. I think you might have an enemy."

"Here in Storybrooke?" I laughed but it fell flat. "Gray, I got here like a month ago. And I really don't think I've made any enemies. Except maybe Mrs Beechley and the worst she could do to me is hit me with an umbrella or something. I don't think she even owns a computer."

"Well how else do you explain it?" he asked, ignoring my jokes. "This guy wants you to look bad. Like _really_ bad."

I shook my head. "Let's just get this out there. We are looking for someone who is super smart, a dickhead, has no problem digging up dirt – and _only_ dirt – on people, hates me… and has a connection to Regina." Graham locked eyes with me and as I spoke, his eyes widened. "What? Ringing any bells?"

"It can't be."

"Who?"

"I mean, you haven't even seen him since you got here and surely he isn't _that_ petty. He can't still be upset with you. That's just stupid."

"Graham! Stop bloody muttering to yourself and tell me who the hell it is."

He faced me. Winced. "I think…Sidney. Sidney Glass."

"No. No way. He doesn't have a reason to hate me." Graham raised his eyebrows and I shook my head. "He doesn't – I only kicked him once. Twice?" I asked, not quite remembering.

"Three times, Emma."

"Really?" I remembered, then, the third time with surprise and no small amount of fondness. I smiled. "Oh yeah. God, he'd been a dick that night. You're right. So three times. But that was _years_ ago."

"Guys are kind of sensitive about that."

"Whatever." I lent against the desk and crossed my arms. "You really think it could be Sidney?"

"Sure. He's Regina's, um, informant."

"He's a snitch."

"Yeah basically. And um," he coughed and looked at his computer. I hooked my foot around the arm of his chair and spun him to look at me.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing." My frown was of epic proportions and I pointed at the file in a way that told him I wasn't going to deal with any of his dilly-dallying today of all days when _that_ had been tossed my way. "Okay, well, two things. One, everyone expected him to be the deputy but then I asked you so you, we, kind of took that away from him."

I winced. Oh goodie. "Okay. That's bad. What's the second thing?"

"He's had a crush on Regina since she moved here. He's been trying to get her attention for years," he said very matter-of-factly.

"Right. By being her informant." I rolled my eyes. "And then I come along and he sees the perfect opportunity to both shit on my reputation and to get a promotion from Regina." I pouted. I really wanted to kick something and have a minor tantrum but I controlled that rather immature urge. Barely.

"Um, yeah, no. I think it might be more than that." I stopped pouting and resumed frowning. "He knows that Regina isn't paying him any attention because she's too focused on you."

"Yeah, _hating_ me. But doesn't he know that she's been avoiding me for weeks?" I shrugged. "He should be happy about that, right? So that doesn't make sense."

Graham looked at me, disbelievingly, and then pelted his stress ball at me as hard as he could. I couldn't dodge in time or catch it and it hit my shoulder hard before bouncing away to some untouched corner of the station.

"Ouch!"

"Are you kidding me? _Emma_. Are you blind? Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to avoid someone in a town like this? Storybrooke is tiny. She would have to know exactly where you are at every moment to avoid running into you. Em – I'm pretty sure she was always thinking about you. Maybe not consciously, but you were definitely on her mind."

I could feel my face flushing a deep red – whether from shock, fear, or happiness, I wasn't sure. Being stalked by someone was rarely fun, hardly ever pleasant, and almost never ended well. But being stalked by Regina?

…That was yet to be determined.

"So." I broke the silence and cleared my throat. "What do we do? Confront Sidney? Oh—" I turned on Graham with my utmost pleading puppy-dog eyes. "Please, please tell me we get to throw his arse in jail."

He winced. "As much as I would like to do that, we can't. Being suspicious of Sidney, well…it's not exactly grounds for arrest. Sorry."

"Can we make him confess to it?"

Graham gulped worriedly. "Not with your firsts, Emma." I looked down to where his eyes were focused and found that I had been cracking my knuckles menacingly. I looked up at my partner and grinned broadly.

"Oops. Sorry."

"Yeah. Sure you are. Hey – why don't you talk to Regina about it? Maybe she'll tell you that it was Sidney and we can bring him down for questioning."

"Maybe."

"So? Go. You know you want to see her," he teased.

"Yeah. I do. But I kind of don't at the same time. Look at what she knows about me now." That stupid file.

"Hey." Graham rolled around his desk and patted my hand. "Don't be silly. There is more to you than what is in that file. Show her that." He shrugged. "I think she already knows it though."

"You think? Why?"

"Well, she gave you the file, didn't she? That's got to mean something."

"Right. True. Okay. Good." My eyes widened. "What if she wants me to tell her that it's not true? What if _that_ is why she gave it to me? Maybe she thought it was some kind of prank! What if I tell her it's all true and she doesn't want to talk to me ever again?" I groaned loudly and slapped my hands over my eyes. "Why is this _happening_?"

"Jesus Christ, woman. You never do anything half-arsed, do you?" Graham muttered.

"Graham!" I lowered my hands and scowled at him. "I am having a _crisis_ here. Do not insult me."

"It wasn't really an insult-"

"Graham!"

"Fine! Just – calm down, okay? Breathe." He didn't look impressed by my less-than-calm breathing so he stood and placed his hands on my shoulders gently. "Emma. You are going to talk to her. You're going to ask her where she got it and who she got it from, okay?" I nodded. "And if she asks you if it's true, you will tell her that it was illegally obtained and therefore illegitimate in any court of law."

"She won't like that."

"No. She won't. But it is true."

"And that's basically just a shitty way of saying yes, it is true, and please don't use it against me." I pulled away from him and groaned again. "This sucks."

"I know."

"Why'd she come to see me last night? Why didn't she just ask me outright if I was a criminal? Why does everything have to be so bloody hard with her?"

"Hold on—last night? What happened last night?"

"She came to the apartment." I smiled apologetically. Whoops. I'd forgotten to tell him. "Then she yelled at me for breaking into her office, leaving hot beverages everywhere, and prompting anarchy among the lawless delinquents of Storybrooke."

"Oh."

"Yeah." I shrugged. "I think she was bored and just wanted to yell at me, you know? Because of all the reasons to yell, those were probably the worst." Out of the blue, Graham started laughing. "Stop. Why are you laughing?" He wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye and laughed some more. "Stop it. Graham!"

"I'm sorry but," he was interrupted by his own laughter. "She didn't want to _yell_ at you, Emma." He chuckled, the bout of laughter ending. "She wanted to _see_ _you_."

I stopped.

Blinked.

"Huh?"

"Oh come on, Emma. When did she say she got the file?"

"Yesterday morning."

"Think about it – if Sidney gave her this, and she still had to think about all the places she had to avoid you, and she was thinking about the fact that there were no 'hot beverages' waiting in her office from you, she was probably on Emma overload. So she came to see you."

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"I know why she gave me the file!"

Graham narrowed his eyes at my apparent disregard of his advice but let me speak. "I'm listening."

"It's because she knows that it's not a hundred per cent accurate – she doesn't trust it." I grinned. "She doesn't trust _Sidney_." He just looked at me blankly. "It doesn't say anything about Henry, right?" Graham nodded to confirm. "But she met Henry last night. If something – someone – as hugely important as that was missing, what else was missing right?"

"Right." Graham nodded. "Hold on a second. She met Henry?" It was my turn to nod. "You never let people meet Henry."

"That's not true."

"Ah, it kind of is. You are super over-protective."

"Shut up. I had no choice anyway. Henry insisted. And, get this, she shook his hand and called him Mister Henry and she was really nice about it. She even smiled. And then she yelled at me a little and told me that cereal for dinner wasn't nutritious but I think she actually really liked Henry."

"Wow."

"I know, right?" I sat back onto the desk. "So, supposing she knows that it's not all true, well, that stuff is missing, maybe she was just being nice by giving me the file." I smiled. "Imagine that."

"Imagine that." Graham reclined in his chair, pondering a universe in which Regina could be nice. "Hey Emma?" His eyes were glittering with a little something I would, without hesitation, called mischief. "Do you want to go follow Sidney around for a while?"

"Yes. _God_ yes."

* * *

Sidney was thoroughly spooked by the afternoon. We'd been trailing him for a good few hours. Graham had donned ridiculous sunglasses and his street clothes, which consisted of an intimidating black leather jacket. He also insisted that we match so I dug out my own black leather. I refused the glasses though. We strapped our stars and walkie-talkies to our belts and hid our guns in our holsters. Basically, we looked badass. I told Graham that war paint was taking it a little too far but if he wanted some makeup I was happy to lend him my mascara. He declined.

We found Sidney in Granny's around lunch. A nice guy – Dr Hopper, I think his name was – was happy to give us his newspaper after he'd finished his lunch. We poked eyeholes through the paper and sat quietly, sipping at black coffee and noticeably watching Sidney shift nervously in his seat.

He ducked out of the diner and we followed. Graham kept the newspaper and walked a perfect ten metres behind Sidney the whole way down main street. I kept my distance and was determined not to be seen except when he least expected it.

An hour or so after we had started, I decided it was time to show my face. Sidney had ducked into a clothes shop so I stopped outside the window. Graham was leaning casually on a car right outside, still 'reading' the paper, and waiting for Sidney to show. I stayed only long enough for Sidney to cast a furtive glance out the window, spot me, and blanch. He turned away for a moment and I was gone, dashing around the corner and into an alley. Later, Graham informed me that Sidney was thoroughly spooked.

We repeated this for several hours and only left when Mrs Beechley once again informed us that she had some kind of strange beast in her garden. It was a kitten. Graham refused to let us keep it and called David from Animal Control. Just as well. Henry probably would have never left the house again if he had a puppy _and_ a kitten. That would just have been too much cuteness in one household.

"Hey Emma," Graham called out to me after rescuing the kitten. "My legs are super tired so I'm just going to follow Sidney around in the patrol car. Is that okay?"

"Gee, _Sheriff_, I don't know." Graham laughed at the reminder that he was my superior. "I'm going to go and talk to Regina now. Is _that_ okay, sheriff?"

"Certainly, deputy."

"Thank you, sheriff." I sketched a ridiculous bow and Graham curtsied. When he wobbled, I shoved him and he almost toppled to the ground. "You're late for stalking duties, sheriff."

"You would know," I heard my friend mutter and I narrowed my eyes at him. "That doesn't work on me." I narrowed them further. "Can you even see anymore?" I narrowed them again. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving." As he drove past, he rolled down the window. "I know that you're walking because you want to freak Sidney out again if you see him."

I didn't dignify that with an answer. I just tapped my nose knowingly and grinned when he laughed and sped away from the sidewalk.

* * *

I stood in front of Regina's door and waited. Took in a deep breath. _Come on, Emma_, my brain prompted._ Just knock on the door. You can do it_.

_Easy for you to say, arsehole_, I felt like responding to the urging of my brain. _It isn't you that'll be thrashed if she's angry. You'll be fine. I'll be all bruised and bloody and humiliated._

I wasn't sure that I should be pushing what I assumed was a tentative truce so far as to be visiting her for a second time today. But then again she did kind of give me a minor bombshell this morning. So maybe it's okay?

I lifted my hand anyway and knocked lightly.

"Go away, Michael. I told you I was not to be disturbed."

I pushed the door open. "It's, ah, it's not Michael." Regina lifted her head slowly. Her eyes flashed with what I thought might be surprise, a little bit of fear, curiosity, and then settled on muted anger.

"Come in, deputy. There is something I wish to discuss with you." I slid into the office and pressed the door closed behind me. "Tell me, deputy, why would Sidney Glass believe that you and the sheriff are following him?"

I wanted to smile. I really did. But instead I crinkled my brow thoughtfully and, equally thoughtfully, shook my head slowly. "Well, that's odd. I'm sure that I have no idea, Madame Mayor."

Her eyes sharpened and narrowed. I felt the sudden urge to spontaneously combust but held my own against the urge.

"So you haven't been purposefully stalking Mr Glass?" She tapped a perfect finger against the arm of her chair. My eyes drifted to it, examined it, adored the little and slightly intimidating quirk, and then I smiled and returned my eyes to Regina's face.

"Stalking?" I made my eyebrows move as far up my forehead as they could possibly go. "Gosh no." This was fun. I settled back into my chair. "What a strange suggestion."

"Indeed. Then you suggest I inform Mr Glass that nothing of the such was happening."

"Oh yes. What a capital idea, ma'am. And," I said conversationally, and not in all in a pointed manner, "You should probably tell him to stay off his computer. I've heard that if you spend too long looking at the screen, your eyes can get a little messed up. Maybe that's what happened. Maybe he saw something he shouldn't have – I mean, couldn't have."

"Yes," she said slowly. "I'm sure." I swear I saw her smile a little and that's all I needed to know. "I will let him know." She folded her hands on the desk in front of her and gave me her full, undivided attention. "Now. What can I do for you, deputy?"

Naturally, given Regina's full, undivided attention, I had a complete mind blank and just looked at her for a little while.

"Deputy Swan?"

"Hmm? Oh. Right. Well, I had a look at the files you gave me this morning." It was a good thing I was watching her as closely as I was because I might have otherwise missed the brief tensing of her shoulders.

"And?"

"And nothing. Very interesting read."

"Indeed. Anything to add, deputy?"

"A few things." She looked at me and I looked at her and I smiled tightly. I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. She just stared at me and I let my breath out in a rush and shook my head. "Okay you win. I suck at being subtle and right now I just want to know who gave it to you."

"I cannot tell you."

"Right. Of course you can't."

"Perhaps if I knew why you wanted the identity of the informant?" she questioned, apparently disinterested.

"Oh, no reason. They just did some seriously illegal stuff to get that information." Her eyelids flickered. Interesting. So Regina didn't know that. "Oh, and they left out plenty of stuff, which tells me that the information was intended for slanderous purposes." I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. "What a shame we have no clue who could possibly have done such a thing."

"You suspect Mr Glass," she said.

"Sidney?" I smiled. "He's such a well-respected, upstanding citizen." _Except when you kick him in his family jewels. He's not upstanding then_. "Why on earth would we suspect him of such a heinous thing?"

"You want me to tell you that it was him."

"Oh yes please. I'd like that."

She leaned back into her comfortable chair and thought about it. "I am not sure who gave me the file, deputy. My apologies." She shrugged delicately. "I do hope you find something."

"Mm." I settled into the chair and into my bargaining mode. "Tell you what – we won't take your…friend downtown and interrogate him if you tell him to back off."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because he's got no reason to do it." I gritted my teeth before making eye contact. Whoops. Bargaining Emma just went out the window and in came cranky Emma. "He's doing it out of spite and you know it. _Whoever_ they might be, they took advantage of the fact that you don't like me and decided to print out some very privileged information. Which, I'm sure you know, is not one hundred per cent accurate. And if I know anything about you, Madame Mayor, it is that you like to have your facts straight."

She inclined her head in an elegant nod. "True, deputy."

"Then let me propose something." Every part of Regina sharpened. I had the feeling that I could poke my eyes out on her. I knew that she was thinking the worst right now – or pretty near to it – so I hurried along to fix the mess. I fortified myself, my brain working double-time by thinking and giving myself a pep talk at the same time. "I want to try this again. Us. Being friends, I mean."

"Excuse me?" From the way her face slackened with shock, I could tell that was not what she was expecting. Good. She shouldn't expect that she knows everything about me just because she read a bunch of papers.

"You. Me. Friends."

She hesitated. "And how would that benefit me, deputy?"

"Oh that's easy. Your information here?" I pulled it out of my jacket and slid it across the table. She didn't take it. "It's inaccurate. Not all of it but it is missing a whole lot of facts. But you already knew that. If we were friends, you could ask me questions yourself and I would answer them."

"Again, how does that benefit me?"

"I'm sure that you would enjoy the opportunity to be assured that no dangerous criminals have infiltrated your town. So, as for me? I'm no dangerous criminal. Allow yourself to be soothed."

"I see," she said. And _I_ see that she wants to smile. One day, and hopefully one day soon, I'll make her crack. I will have her laugh at one of my jokes. Or at me. I don't really mind which. "And how would this deal benefit you?"

"Oh, well." I shifted in my seat. "I just kind of want to be your friend."

BOOM. Regina's face registered extreme surprise and it kind of thrilled me a little bit. Okay, a lot. I liked that I was the one to surprise her. But, of course, at the same time it made me incredibly sad to know that she was so hugely shocked at the idea of someone wanting to be her friend. I wonder how long it had been since someone other than Michael or me had smiled at her.

"Deputy,"

"Regina." We both spoke at the same time. In a gesture that I thought I might as well get used to, I motioned for her to speak first.

"Deputy Swan, the real reason?"

"Huh?" Oh seriously? She thinks I'm playing her. Well stuff that.

"That was my real reason." I let my disappointment show. I thought I had done a pretty good job in showing her that I wanted to be her friend. Maybe I needed to say it. "I guess I haven't done a good enough job showing you that I want to be your friend. People probably bring you coffee all the time. I'll have to step up my game. But, well, the offer still stands." I stood and shrugged. "Think about it."

As I was leaving, I turned back, remembering something. "I don't know if I said it. I think I made a bunch of excuses instead of actually saying this so, well, here goes." She looked hugely curious. "I'm sorry. For ditching you that day. I never wanted to hurt your feelings. And I hope that you'll let me make it up to you."

She nodded and I nodded and I went to leave again. But, as the door was about to close, she called out to me. I darted back and stuck my head through the gap.

"Yes?"

"I…" she paused and stared down at her papers. Or, perhaps, it was at the files I had returned to her. "You are correct in saying that the file is incomplete. That will not do. And I would like to say that I," she paused again. "I very much enjoyed meeting Henry. He's very polite." She looked everywhere but at me. "You have done an excellent job with him. You should be very proud."

Well. I don't think I've ever felt a warmth quite like that which her words started in me. It began somewhere in my chest and just spread like a flash through my bones and veins and flesh and I knew that I was grinning like a fool. But I had to. I had to, you see, because no one had ever said that to me like that. Never the people that really mattered.

"I am. Very proud." I cleared my throat. "Regina?"

"Mm?"

"Would you like to get lunch with me tomorrow?"

She stared at me for so long that I thought she might have fallen asleep. But eventually she nodded and smiled so very faintly that I strained my eyes trying to pin it down. "Very well. One pm precisely, deputy, at Granny's. Do not be late."

"Yes ma'am. I look forward to it." I paused again. At this rate, I was never going to leave the doorway. But I just had one last thing to say. "Oh, and if Mr Glass reports that there is a car that looks suspiciously like, oh, I don't know, the sheriff's patrol vehicle loitering outside his home...well." I grinned widely. "He's mistaken."

**Hey everyone. I hope you like it. There will be more discussion everything in this chapter but if there is something in particular you want to know, feel free to message me/review with a question/talk to me on tumblr (elizadownunder). Thank you all for your continued support! Happy reading, readers :)**


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